A Presidential Election
by ScandalMania
Summary: This is Part II of a story that began with 'A Presidential Divorce'. Now the Fixer and the Leader of the Free World are living in the White House, but will OLITZ and the kids get to be the First Family of the United States...
1. State Of The Union

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"You can't talk about gun control in the State of the Union address."<p>

Fitz levelled a glance at Cyrus and the other advisors in the room. "Mellie was shot by a 14-year-old boy."

"Whose dad owned a gun shop."

"The kid had keys to his dad's gun shop. And let's not talk about the assassin's website because that's a whole other conversation."

"Neither of which can be even hinted at in the State of the Union address. What the American Public needs is a plan of action. We need hope, we need enthusiasm; we don't people hoarding guns in their basement, like their stocking up on canned beans just before a hurricane, fearing you'll repeal their second amendment rights."

* * *

><p>After the advisors had left, and in the few minutes he had before meeting with the Treasury Secretary, Fitz made a call.<p>

"It sounds like you're in a blizzard." He smiled when she answered immediately; his weary frown disappearing.

"It's windy and my nose is frozen. Can you hear me okay?"

"I love when you yell sweet nothings in my ear, Livvie."

"_Icy cold_ sweet nothings, Mr President… What's happened?"

"They don't want gun control in the State of the Union address."

"Didn't they read the media reports about the estimated 28,600 Americans killed by guns since the Sandy Hook school shooting in Newtown?"

"Those stories were based on 2010 data collected from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention. I handed out copies of the report, and pointed to the fact that the extrapolated figures include the 12 people killed in the Navy Yard right here in DC."

"Did you mention that other issue?"

"What other issue?"

"Race. More whites kill themselves with a gun, but for every African American who commits suicide with a gun, five more are likely to get shot by someone else."

"Livvie, I need a non-controversial platform to get those controversial points across."

"You'll have to talk about Mellie."

"I don't want to talk about Mellie."

"You have to. You and the kids have lost a wife and a mother. She's your platform. People won't attack a grieving husband."

"I'm not grieving. I'm sorry she died the way she did, but…"

"But you _are_ sorry."

His sigh rumbled down the phone. Then he pushed the point that had him frowning again. "…Have you changed your mind about being there?"

"I haven't changed my mind, Fitz, it's not a good idea."

* * *

><p>Family dinners at the White House had become chaotic since the inclusion of several furry, tail-wagging 'Grants', adopted from the animal shelter after Christmas.<p>

"You can only get one dog," Fitz had told the children.

So they got four. Because no one could walk away with just one dog, and Jerry sealed the deal by pointing out that the British Queen had 2 corgis and 2 dorgis all to herself, whereas the Grant children were only getting one each, including Peter who'd made his choice before flying home to his parents.

There was Rex, the golden retriever who had become Jerry's shadow; Poppy, a shorkie who loved to cuddle with Karen; a black Labrador called Daisy who let Teddy use her for a pillow and Peter's choice had been a pug called Darth who liked to watch television.

The noise of kids and dogs was no different at the table than it was most nights, and Karen had to yell across the table to give Olivia the news: "Daddy said we could go see him speak at the State of the Union, Mom."

"It's on pretty late," Olivia demurred, glancing from Karen's excited face to Fitz.

He shrugged. "It's just one night, on a Saturday; Karen and Jerry can sleep in the next day."

"Can I have my phone on in there or do I have to switch it off like at the cinema? I don't want to doze off during the boring parts of your speech," Jerry teased.

"There'll be no boring parts."

"I'll take my phone anyway," Jerry muttered, sneaking another piece of roast beef to the dogs waiting patiently under the table.

Fitz caught Olivia's grin, which froze when Karen asked, "Do you know what you're going to wear, Mom?"

* * *

><p>She was mad. He could tell she was mad from the way she marched into their bedroom after they'd said goodnight to the kids.<p>

"Livvie…"

"You told them I was going?" She swung round to glare at him, hands on hips.

"They assumed and I didn't disagree."

"So you are using the kids to change my mind?!"

Fitz eased her stiff, resisting figure into his arms. "You're not my secret anymore, Livvie. You're my fiancée and soon-to-be-wife. It's time to come out of the shadows."

He pressed his lips gently to hers. When she didn't push him away, he slipped his tongue in for a sweet taste of her.

"We're not done," she mumbled, a little huskily.

"No, we're just starting," He growled, pulling her tight against him.

"I'm so angry..." she moaned, her lashes fluttering closed as he bent low and pressed his lips into her skin, just below her ear.

"I deserve every punishment," he encouraged, sliding his hands under her thick sweater.

She drew back, frowning.

He grinned.

* * *

><p>"You can't write about racketeering by Corporate America."<p>

Cyrus shook his head at the notations Fitz had made to the speech. They were meeting yet again to go over his speech in an advisor's office in the West Wing.

"I'm talking about America's working poor and the socio-economic harm it is doing to us as a nation."

"The working poor don't make campaign donations with the same largesse as the Wall Street thugs and free market thieves. The working poor will have to keep buying into the American dream that anyone can make it if they work hard enough. "

"They're working, Cy, but there's a chasm between the rich and the poor in this country that government is inadequate to fill."

"We don't _fill_ it, we just pretend it doesn't exist."

* * *

><p>"I like this," Olivia chuckled as she read through the final draft, lying on her stomach on the bed beside Fitz.<p>

Having watched her face throughout from his vantage point on the pillows, he smiled.

"I like this," he said huskily, reaching out to trace the crease on her brow, the smooth slope of her nose and the soft plumpness of her lips.

She kissed the roving fingertip, then looked down at his hips and gave a naughty smile.

He grinned, unrepentant, watching her place the papers on the night table before shifting to lie on top of him. "This is how I always imagined we'd be as a couple," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

"This is how we were at Camp David, writing your first ever SOTU speech." She kissed the corners of his smiling mouth.

"This is better than Camp David. Everyone knows about us, we don't have to hide."

She paused. "Just because they know, doesn't mean they accept."

"Livvie, they do, they will, they have to," He kissed her at each point, then said huskily, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"What do you want to _talk _about?" She snuffled a laugh.

"Talk dirty to me," he ordered, smoothing his hands over the soft silk of her skin.

"The polar ice caps have melted faster in the past 20 years than in the last 10,000," she breathed in his ear, and he groaned feeling his blood heat with lust.

* * *

><p>On the morning of his State of the Union address to the Joint Session of Congress, Fitz looked out the bedroom window and sighed heavily at the sight of the North Lawn under a thick blanket of snow. Even as he watched, the flakes fell thick and fast.<p>

"You'll need to wear something warm tonight, like you're heading for a Polar expedition."

He turned from the window to walk over to Olivia, standing in front of the mirror.

She didn't respond.

"What's wrong?" His arms slid around her waist as she fixed the pearl ear stud in her left ear.

"Nothing's wrong," she murmured, her gaze meeting his for a split second in the mirror before gliding away.

He turned her round to face him. "Something's wrong."

"Everything is fine." She cupped his face in her hands. "Ready for tonight?"

"I'm ready." He studied her intently. "Are you?"

She dropped her hands and stepped into her shoes. Then she reached for one of the ties that he'd draped on the back of a chair. "Wear the burgundy and black stripe." She stroked a hand over the smooth silk, then picked up her jacket.

"Let me," he murmured, helping her into it. "Have you decided what you're wearing tonight?"

She stared down at his hands, on the buttons of her jacket. "Not yet."

He lifted her chin. "Liv, it's tonight."

"I know it's tonight." She pushed his hand away and did up the rest of the buttons before moving away to take her coat.

"Did you remember to get the hair and make-up people cleared with security?"

She paused, "I do my own hair and make-up."

"Mellie always had professional hair and make-up done for the State of the Union address."

"I'm not Mellie."

"I know you're not Mellie. But I've got a budget for that sort of thing."

She glared at him. "I don't need a budget. I can afford my own hair and make-up people, thank you."

With that she'd left the room, closing the door with a decisive click, which had Fitz wondering what just happened.

* * *

><p>He was no nearer to an understanding when he called her later that evening.<p>

"Where are you?"

"I'm…uh…meeting with a client... I'll be home soon."

"Define soon... I'll be giving the State of the Union address in a couple of hours."

"I might not be able to make it in time for that, Fitz, I—"

He didn't wait for her to finish. He disconnected the call.

She called him right back. "You hung up on me! You don't hang up on me, Fitz!" And she hung up on him before he'd said a single word in response.

About to let out a curse, his faze fell on Karen and Jerry seated on the bed, already dressed for the night. Only Teddy, on Jerry's lap, was in his PJs ready to be tucked in his cot in the nursery. Fitz quickly changed the curse to a gusty sigh.

"What's going on, Dad? Isn't Mom coming?"

"She's held up."

"So she's not going?" Karen looked crestfallen.

Fitz gave a wry smile. "She's going, pumpkin. I just need to do a little convincing."

"If she doesn't want to go, she shouldn't have to go, Dad," Jerry frowned.

"Jerry, take your brother to Marta, and go wait in your rooms. I'll come fetch you when Mom gets here."

He waited until the kids left, then went to the closet. He rifled through her selection of mostly pants, tops and jackets until he paused, seeing the white and black lace dress she'd worn on the day of his inauguration. Without hesitation, he plucked it off the rail, still in its protective wrapper.

He inspected her shoes, and picked up a pair of shiny black heels, then remembering the snow that was lying thick on the ground, he dropped the heels and picked up a pair of knee-high fleece-lined leather boots. Then he called Tom.

* * *

><p>Olivia was alone in her office when he got there.<p>

She looked up from the papers on her desk when the agents walked in, then her eyes widened as she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" She stood as he closed the door to her office behind him. "I locked the elevator gate. How did you—"

"Huck let me in. He's waiting downstairs, guarding the place until you go home."

Olivia averted her gaze. "You shouldn't be here. You should be getting ready for tonight."

"I am. I am getting ready to give this year's State of the Union address in the presence of my fiancée, in what will be our first public appearance as a couple."

She folded her arms across her chest as her gaze came flying back to meet his. "I can't. It doesn't feel right to be sitting in the First Lady's box when I'm not the First Lady."

"Livvie, you're my First Lady. I want you there."

"But the public won't be ready for me to take Mellie's place. Not yet."

"The kids will be there."

"They have that right. They're your kids and she was their mother. It's hasn't even been a month since she's been gone."

"Livvie, I don't have time to argue about this. Either you go with me or I'll be a no-show for the SOTU address tonight."

"Fitz!"

Ignoring her irate gaze, he held up the clothes in his arms. "I even brought you something to wear."

He saw her face change when she caught sight of the dress. Her expression softened and her voice was husky as she asked, "You chose that dress?"

"Yeah. And I brought your boots."

She gasped a laugh, "My black leather boots. They don't really go with that dress."

"It's snowing outside."

Her arms dropped to her sides and she looked at him helplessly. "I hate how you do this – change my mind when I've decided against something."

"I love you. Now get dressed."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later she sat cuddled within his arm as they drove back to The White House.<p>

"I love how you look in that dress," he whispered, their hands linked on the lace, through the opening of her coat.

"I remember that you loved how I looked without it too."

He nuzzled her nose as they exchanged a husky chuckle. "Maybe after the State of the Union Address, we can go back to my office and re-enact that scene."

"The kids will be with us."

"We can put them to bed and then go down memory lane."

She reached up to straighten his tie. "You need to focus on your speech, not what comes after."

"Pardon the pun."

She blushed. "Behave, Mister."

Just then his phone rang and Olivia reached into his jacket pocket and took it out, seeing the caller ID, Fitz sighed and put the phone on speaker.

"Yes, Cy?"

"You are not at the White House. Why are you not at the White House? Do you know what day this is?"

"Yes, I checked the calendar. It January 11th. And I'm on my way to the White House with my most distinguished guest for tonight's speech." Fitz smiled at Olivia, then grinned at Cy's exasperated response.

"Perfect. Just perfect. Here I am putting out the fires that Sally Langston is lighting all over the place, while you go play fetch."

"Thank you," Fitz said mildly, adding after a pause. "Good job."

There was a distinct curse as Cyrus ended the call.

* * *

><p>Just after 9 that evening, Fitz nodded to the Sergeant at Arms who announced loudly for all to hear, "Mr Speaker, the President of the United States."<p>

As applause and cheers broke out, Fitz walked into the chamber of the House of Representatives, with the Congressional Escort Committee following at his heels. He stopped often to shake hands, exchange hugs and receive condolences from members of Congress from both the Senate and House of Reps.

Briefly, he paused to search the gallery above, where the public and media were packed to get a bird's eye view of the proceedings. Then smiled at the sight of Olivia standing with Karen, who waved, and Jerry, who grinned and held up his phone. Only Olivia didn't smile or wave, but her gaze remained fixed on him, and his step felt lighter as he strode towards the Speaker's rostrum.

Once behind the House Clerk's desk and after he had handed the manila envelopes, containing copies of his speech, to Sally Langston and the speaker of the house, Fitz faced his audience and began speaking,

"Mr Speaker, Madam Vice President, Members of Congress, distinguished guests and fellow Americans, each of us today has a reason to be grateful that we have survived another year. A tough year. A year of violence and of death but also of hope, of courage and great fortitude.

"The courage and fortitude of our service men and women who keep this country safe on our shores and on foreign soil; the courage and fortitude of our aid workers who care for the sick, the injured and the hungry at great risk to their own lives; the courage and fortitude of every man and woman who strives hard every day to make this country great in achieving the American Dream.

"Yet we need to do more. We can do more. Just as each American strives to achieve his or her dreams, so too must we, the representatives of our people, strive to make those dreams achievable. We, in government, must work together for our electorates. I make that commitment to everyone in my electorate, in all states and territories of this great nation of ours. I make that commitment irrespective of whether you have voted for me or not, I make that commitment because every American must have the opportunity to make their dream come true. I make this commitment to the American people and on their behalf, I ask this commitment of each one of you in this chamber today.

"I ask this of you because our economy grew by 4.1 per cent in the last quarter, above expectations, but we still have over 50 million people living in poverty. I ask this of you because unemployment dropped in 45 states and the District of Columbia, but we still have 4 million people who have been unemployed for 6 months or more. I ask this of you because college applications are increasing for fewer admissions and more college students are dropping out before graduation, but of greater concern is that two thirds of college graduates now share a national student debt burden over a trillion dollars, that's 6 per cent of our overall Federal debt.

"Now in the spirit of true bi-partisanship I would like to remind you that 70 years ago today, another President addressed this nation and spoke of a Second Bill of Rights – an Economic Bill of Rights to ensure equality and the pursuit of happiness. That President was Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was a Democrat with a vision for social progress that I as a Republican President believe in, and I believe it is well past time we made those rights a reality…"

* * *

><p>In the gallery, Karen climbed onto Olivia's lap and whispered, "Daddy, looks tired, Mom."<p>

"I know, Baby K, he's been staying up late a lot of nights working on this speech." Olivia rubbed her cheek against Karen's hair, then hearing Jerry's chuckle, she turned and nudged him. "Put your phone away."

"Mom, he's talking about the economy, that stuff is boring."

"Jer, your dad worked hard on this speech, you need to respect that. Listen to what he's saying."

"Mom."

"Jer, don't make me tickle you in front of Congress."

He grinned, taking out his ear buds and placing his phone in her outstretched hand.

* * *

><p>"…Such circumstances give us cause to be grateful. I, for one, am grateful that I survived an assassination attempt," He paused as the smattering of applause built up in waves until it thundered around the chamber as everyone stood and gave him a standing ovation.<p>

"Thank you," Fitz said diffidently when the applause died down. "I survived and recovered in no small part due to the dedication and brilliance of the doctors, nurses, technicians, assistants, everyone who worked to get me well.

"Tragically not everyone is that lucky: not merely to survive their injuries without permanent damage, but to survive at all. At this time, I would like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for the sympathy and kindness and most of all sensitivity you have shown me and my family since the passing of Melody Grant who died under tragic circumstances."

Fitz paused, absorbing the pin drop silence, then continued gravely, "Melody was shot by a child, a child who got his hands on a gun. A loaded weapon that he used to kill another human being. That children have ready access to deadly weapons concerns me, it should concern all of you.

"Of even greater concern to me is the report from the American Academy of Pediatrics which tells us that 7,500 children are admitted to US hospitals with gunshot wounds every year, and of those admitted, 500 die from their injuries. That's 500 future leaders, scientists, economists and humanitarians this nation loses every year. Guns are estimated to kill twice as many children as cancer, five times as many as heart disease, and 15 times as many infections. Those figures are from the New England Journal of Medicine. Our doctors have joined our parents in these cries for help.

"Guns are killing our children. Children are killing with guns. You may ask yourself - how are they getting their hands on these weapons? But the real question is - why are so many unsecured loaded weapons kept in the safe haven of home?

"Now I know when you hear this, your first reaction will be to tell government to mind its own business. We have laws in this country to ensure that a 'man's home is his castle'. Yet that castle doctrine needs to be examined further, in light of the fact that the guns we buy for self-defence, are contributing in far greater numbers to the accidental murder and suicide of our children. That's right the unintentional death of our children.

"We can't just stand by and read the death toll figures year after year. So consider this: we already have limits on what you can do in your home. We enforce deed restrictions that limit the number of rooms in your house, the kind of fence you can build around your home, or dictate the animals you can keep as pets. With that in mind, why do we balk at ensuring safety in the home for our nation's children.

"Here at the White House, the tragedy that touched my family has increased security in our home, but what can we do as a nation to make it safe for our children in all homes …"

* * *

><p>At the end of his speech, Fitz stepped down from the Rostrum to be instantly surrounded by a group of well-wishers. He shook hands and accepted hugs, noting that most of his admirers were democrats and independents. Then Karen pushed her way in to give him a hug and a kiss goodnight. Followed by Jerry, who limited himself to a hug, then spent several minutes schmoozing with the congressmen and women and seemed reluctant to leave when Karen dragged him away.<p>

Olivia remained on the periphery, engrossed in conversation with a senator who kept flitting his gaze around as if he was speaking of some great secret; diverting Olivia's attention away from all covert attempts Fitz made to attract her into his circle. But just before she turned to leave, their gazes met for a second and she gave him a megawatt smile. Then she wrapped one arm around Karen, while linking the other through Jerry's and left the chamber together.

When Fitz eventually made it to their room, after making a disappointing detour of the Oval Office, he found her curled up in bed, asleep, wearing his Navy sweatshirt.

He sat down carefully, not wanting to wake her. He brushed the hair from her face and unable to resist, trailed his fingers down her cheek, then lowered his head and stroked his lips across her mouth, but stilled and drew back when her lips trembled beneath his.

She was looking at him in a mixture of hunger and wariness.

"Hi," he said softly, his fingertips caressing the satin curve of her cheek. "I didn't mean to wake you."

The wariness disappeared behind a smile as she pulled him down to her. "You were wonderful. Very commander-in-chief and very presidential. And you said what you wanted, you did it."

"We did it," he smiled, kissing her. "You and me. We make a great team." Then while she smiled against his mouth, returning his kisses, he added, "I thought you'd come back after you'd seen the kids off to bed."

"It just didn't feel right. Everyone was sympathising with you over Mellie's death and I just felt..."

"Felt...?" He paused.

"Like a third wheel again. The other woman."

"Livvie, you're no longer the other woman. You're the woman I'm going to marry."

"On the rebound."

"What?" he drew back, frowning.

"The honeymoon is over for us, Fitz. I think the American people aren't enamoured with me anymore. They were okay as long as I was in the background, without any chance of stepping forward. Mellie and I put on a good show, but they weren't expecting me to be the winner. I don't think they thought that her loss would be so tragic or permanent."

Fitz sat up. "Where is all this coming from? Are you getting cold feet about us?"

"It's not cold feet. It's… I don't know. Do you ever feel that Mellie was the glue that kept us together?"

"What?!" He gave a disbelieving laugh. "She was the _wrench_ that tried to pull us apart!"

Olivia sat up too, reaching for his hand. "I don't mean Mellie herself, but all the turmoil she created pitched us together, we clung to each other to escape from her. Do you think we have what it takes to actually make it on our own, now that she's gone?"

When he failed to find words, she continued softly, "Lately it feels like Mellie was the foundation of our relationship; the standard of comparison for what you wanted in me, that you didn't like in her. But now the standard is gone. There's just you and me, coming out of the shadows, and I'm not sure we have what it takes to survive in the light."

Fitz stared at her, hearing the blood pounding in his ears, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't find the strength to get past the icy cold fear blocking his throat. Then he saw the same fear reflected in her eyes, the fear that this could break them, just when they'd finally reached their own piece of heaven.

He took a deep breath and released it. "Mellie wasn't the glue that held us together, Liv. She was the catalyst that helped me realise I need more in my life. I need you. The first time I saw you, I recognised you. It was my heart, or maybe my soul, recognised you and I felt whole, I could stop searching, I had found 'it'. You were 'it', Livvie. You are always going to be my 'it'."

"Your '_it_' girl." She smiled.

"_My_ 'it_'_ girl."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, then tugged off his tie and moved her hands under his jacket to slide it off in a single caress.

"Livvie," he breathed as she began to unbutton his shirt, placing soft kisses on his throat until she reached his T-shirt; then she was tugging that off along with the half unbuttoned shirt and tossing them away, stroking her hands over his bare chest, her fingertips brushing across his nipples.

He groaned falling back on the bed holding her in his arms, opening his mouth and swallowing her lips whole, as his hands slipped under the sweatshirt to find smooth, bare skin.

They broke away gasping for air.

"Take off that damned sweatshirt," he growled.

She raised a brow. "Was there a please in there somewhere?"

He drew one of her fingers into his mouth and sucked, then grinned when the sweatshirt flew off the next instant.

"You don't play fair," she grumbled sinking down for another kiss.

"I don't play. Not when it comes to you," he said thickly, holding her close.

* * *

><p>It was much later, as he trailed his fingers over her back, feeling the welcome weight of her half lying over him, that he remembered to ask, "What was Maxwell whispering to you about?"<p>

"Jealous?" she mumbled, and he felt her smile.

"Yeah. Always. Tell me what you were talking about."

She placed a kiss on his chest before replying. "We did business together...a long time ago."

"What kind of business?"

"I promised Maxwell I wouldn't tell you."

"Did it involve sex, drugs or money?"

"Fitz…"

He kissed the top of her head and then said softly, "You know you have to give that up. After we get married."

"The sex, drugs or money?"

"The job."

"Yes, but that won't be for at least another year."

"I'm not waiting a year to marry you," he refuted instantly.

She raised herself up to look at him. "Long engagements are good for people to really get to know each other."

"I want us to get married on Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's – as in a month?"

"Yes."

"Fitz, you want me to give up everything and become your wife in one month?"

He nodded, lowering his head for a kiss; then looked in confusion as Olivia pushed away to scramble off the bed and thrust herself into his shirt that had been so carelessly tossed on the floor.

"This is why we need a long engagement! You decide things on your own, and then you tell me, like I'm one of your staff, not your fiancee!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when you asked my dad to stay here in the White House?!"

"This place has 132 rooms, including 25 bedrooms and 35 bathrooms. It's not like we don't have the space."

"I'm not talking about space! I'm talking about the unilateral decision you made in inviting him, without asking me first! You told me after you had decided. Just like you've decided I should give up my business and marry you in a month. Fitz, we need to discuss these things."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

"No, no! This is _not_ a _discussion_! This is a debriefing – you are debriefing me about the plans you've made for us!" She glared at him, then turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep in one of the other 24 bedrooms!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, and THANK YOU sooooooo much for all the lovely comments at the end of Part I of this story. :)))))  
><strong>

**If you're reading this, you know that I've started the new story with a looooong chapter … a week off and I've swallowed the encyclopaedia-pill (all 32 volumes in one read!). Not sure what the cure for that is... **

**Anyway I'm trying to tie each chapter in with a political theme and that's bloated the plot. Also not sure how that intention will go in the long run – hopefully I won't have to kill anybody towards the end to make it all work. #StillNotSorryAboutMellie.**

**And indulging in my new obsession with quotable quotes – again from ****_the 100 funny quotes of all time_**** on the ****_quotery _****website: ****_If you steal from one author, it's plagiarism; if you steal from many it's research – Wilson Mizner_**

**So here's my 'research' (heh, heh):**

**_There have been more mass shootings since Newtown than you've heard about_**** (infographic) – written by Katy Hall, Jan Diehm and Ethan Fedida published in Huffington Post on Sept 17, 2013; ****_At least 9900 have died from guns in the US since the Newtown Shooting: Slate_**** by Domique Mosbergen in Huffington Post published Oct 28, 2013; ****_Gun deaths shaped by race in America_**** - by Dan Keating, published in the Washington Post on March 22, 2013; ****_Study: U.S. Hospitals Admit 7,500 Kids A Year With Gunshot Wounds_ by Eric Lach – published on talkingpointsmemo website (TPM) October 28, 2013;_ Epidemic: Guns kill twice as many kids as cancer does_ - Dustin Racioppi, published in USA Today, April 11, 2013; _Castle Doctrine from State to State_ by Brendan Purves on the southuniversity website issue 7, Jully 2011 **

**The State of the Union information and Franklin D. Roosevelt's Bill of Rights were all faithfully filched from Wikipedia. _Student debt rises in Mass. and the nation_ by Peter Schworm published in the Boston Globe, January 6, 2014; _How The $1.2 Trillion College Debt Crisis Is Crippling Students, Parents And The Economy_ - Chris Denhart published in Forbes 08/07/2013 and the National Center for Education Statistics - fast facts 2013; _Just a reminder: The US still has ludicrously high long-term unemployment_- Tim Fernholz, published January 6, 2014 on Quartz - qz website, more info from USA Today, Bloomberg and Reuters.  
><strong>

**There's an article called ****_It's not just the Queen's corgis…the royal family has an animal kingdom _****written by Harry Hodges and published on Sep 14, 2013 in the Express (UK) . The line '****_polar ice caps have melted faster in …20 years than in the last 10,000_****' was stolen verbatim from the article ****_Polar ice sheets melting faster than ever _****written by Irene Quaile and published in Deutsche Welle on Feb 4, 2013**


	2. Fiscal Cliff

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Fitz stared as the door shut behind Olivia, then he flung back the covers and got out of bed to pull on his pants and go after her.<p>

He found her in the Lincoln Bedroom looking uncertainly at the four-poster bed.

"Appropriate choice."

"Go away."

"Did you know that Lincoln was an unhappily married man?"

"I haven't watched the movie."

"It's not in the movie. Mary Todd Lincoln is said to have made her husband's life a living hell."

At Olivia's darting glance of surprise, Fitz added, "She was described as one of the most detested public women in American history. She had the same problems as Mellie - narcissism and borderline personality disorder. Her son Robert had her arrested and committed to an insane asylum, until she was released after a retrial."

"Okay, you can have this room, and I'll find go find somewhere else." Olivia tried to side-step him but he blocked her path.

"Lincoln is believed to have loved two women – Ann Rutledge possibly the first and great love of his life. She rejected him for another man who later abandoned her. Historians say she and Lincoln became secretly engaged but she died of typhoid fever before they could marry. Then he fell in love with Mary Owens, who rejected him because he lacked social graces."

Olivia gave him a level look. "But he married Mary Todd who made fun of him for eating butter off his knife at the table, and opening the front door himself without waiting for a servant."

That made him grin. "I love how you know that." He drew closer, adding in a slow drawl. "How would history have changed, if Lincoln had married the love of his life; if he'd been able to marry the women he loved, had they not rejected him?"

"You and I probably wouldn't be in this room."

They both fell silent, absorbing the impact of her words, then he reached out and took her hand. When she didn't snatch it away, he tugged her reluctant figure into his arms. "I have waited four years to claim you."

"It sounds like you need a branding iron not a marriage licence," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Livvie, look at me."

"I'm not a cow."

His gust of laughter had her furious gaze fix on him instantly.

"That's not funny!"

"You're cute when you get mad."

"Ugh! Let me go!" She pushed at him.

He let her go but caught her quickly when she stumbled in her haste, and they stood still for a moment facing each other, linked by only his hand on her arm.

As she stared at him, her breathing harsh and visible, he slid his hand down to her wrist to wrap his fingers around her palm.

"Why are you so mad at me?" he asked her.

She looked at him, then she sighed and the tense line of her shoulders vanished into a slump.

"It's not you."

"Okay, why are you mad at you?" When she didn't speak, he added gently, "You knew this would happen eventually, us being together. You said 'yes' when I asked you to marry me."

"I didn't think it would happen this fast. I thought Mellie would keep fighting back. I knew she'd keep delaying, she'd argue about the settlements, she'd demand visitation for the kids, I was so sure she'd drag it out until the re-election. Maybe even after that... but…"

"She died… and now we're here."

"I just... I don't think I can do this..."

"Be my wife?"

"Be First Lady. I don't think I'll be very good at it."

He stepped close, so close that she was leaning against him. "Why would you think that? You've been staying here with me, with the kids after Mellie moved out. "

She sighed, laying her head on his chest. "I was just looking after you. I was in damage control mode. I was trying to be a buffer between her and you and the kids, but now that she's gone, it feels like my job is done."

"You're job isn't done, it's just starting."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Livvie, I need you. The kids need you. Even the dogs need you. Poppy growled at Cyrus when he tried to pick her up but she comes looking for you for a cuddle when you come home from work. They all wait for you. We need you, Livvie."

"I'm here, Fitz. I'm here and I'm happy with the way things are now. I don't want that to change."

"…Are you saying you don't want to marry me?"

"I do want to marry you. I do, but I don't want to be Mrs Grant."

His hands reached up to cup her face. "If this is about that silly argument we had before about your married name. I was teasing. You're Olivia Pope. You'll always be Olivia Pope, even after we get married."

"That's just it. I won't be, even if I keep my name, I'll still be another Mrs Grant."

"Livvie, that just doesn't make sense."

"I know," she said sadly. "That's my problem."

* * *

><p><em>"What she wore is the trending topic this morning after Ms Olivia Pope, the President's Fiancée made her first official public appearance last night. Ms Pope attended the State of the Union address on Capitol Hill wearing a gorgeous Michael Korrs dress, white with black lace. It's a gorgeous dress, but as the tweeters out there have said, we've seen it before. Here's a photo of Ms Pope in the same dress she wore on the night of the President's Inauguration, almost four years ago. It looked good then as it did last night but what does it say about the economy if the First Fiance has to recycle her wardrobe to that extent, are we heading for a fiscal cliff..."<em>

_"I love boots, I go shopping in my boots, but those old boots with that dated dress? Honey, lets all start a collection for that poor woman. It's obvious her allowance doesn't stretch to the designer suits worn so well by the former First Lady, Melody Grant, who died so tragically just a few weeks ago. Now there was a woman who could put the power in a power suit. Her passing will be such a loss to the fashion industry..."_

_"Is that an old dress? That's what we're talking about today. Not kids killing and getting killed by guns; or the money the government could be channelling into health or education, if tax-payers weren't subsidising minimum wage workers - because that was what the President was talking about last night. But what we're talking about this morning is an old dress and what it means for our economy. Really? There's a link? Someone woke early this morning to join random dots to spot a trend? All I want to know is what the FTSE 100 Index has got to do with the First Fiancee's dress, can someone tell me that?..."_

Fitz plucked the remote from Olivia's hands and switched off the TV.

"You looked gorgeous in that dress. I love you wearing that dress," he muttered, hugging her tightly under the covers.

"I loved that you chose that dress. That you remembered the last time I wore it," she said softly, snuggling close.

"It's etched forever in my mind." He kissed her.

She smiled against his lips. "I think I need a stylist."

He drew back sharply. "You don't need a stylist. You've got style. I love your style."

"Fitz, they think we're heading for a financial crisis because of my wardrobe."

"You don't need a stylist. We need a counsellor."

"What?"

He shifted to lean against the pillows, looking at her patiently. "Livvie, we need pre-marital counselling. We need to sort out what's going on with you. With us. I feel like you're running away again."

"Fitz, I'm right here."

"In body, but your mind has packed its bag and put one foot out the door. Do you want to call your friend, Dr Mendoza?"

"I'm not talking about my problems with my friends."

He stared at her solemnly, then said patiently. "I'll find the counsellor."

"I don't want a complete stranger knowing our business."

He stared at her some more and she stared back.

Then the door slammed open and Jerry barged in, forcing Olivia to dive under the covers, so that she was almost decent by the time Karen and the dogs jumped on the bed.

"I'm getting a lock on that door," Fitz muttered, as he and Olivia were covered in doggy slobbered greetings. Then he noticed that Jerry was glaring at him as Karen clung to Olivia.

"What?"

"Why did you make Mom wear an old dress? They're being mean about it on all the gossip sites."

"Yeah." Karen agreed, tightening her arms around Olivia.

Olivia kissed Karen, then reached past Daisy and Darth, to take Fitz by the hand. "I was late, remember? Your dad had to pick a dress, and lucky for me he picked one of my favourites. I didn't mind that I had worn it before."

Fitz smiled at her, then grinned when Jerry said gruffly, "I think you looked beautiful in it too."

"Me too," Karen muttered.

Then the kids scrambled off the bed. "Okay, we'll tell them where to go with their bitchy comments."

"Hey, Jer, Baby K, no!" Olivia called out, forcing the kids to stop in their race out the door.

"Why not?"

"If you respond to negative comments, they'll get worse. Respond to the nice ones. Other kids will be reading your comments, show them you're clever at handling the bad stuff."

Karen and Jerry exchanged a glance, then they nodded and left at more sedate pace, with Rex and Poppy following behind.

When Daisy and Darth remained, Fitz said firmly, "Out." Then more sternly, "Out!" but all they did was wag their tails and lick his face.

Finally it was Jerry's 'walkies' whistle that had the dogs jumping down and racing off, leaving Olivia giggling as Fitz cursed and went to shut the door.

When he came back to the bed, he said, "Get dressed."

"Why?" Olivia pulled the covers up and crossed her arms.

"We're two reasonably intelligent adults, we can work this out."

"Work what out?"

"Us, you, whatever the hell is going on here."

"There is nothing going on."

"Are you getting out of bed?"

She shook her head, then gasped when he yanked off the quilt, then launched himself at her in tickle mode.

"Fitz! Get off me!" she laughed, trying to get away.

* * *

><p>"I hate you," she muttered as he dragged her outside. "And it's snowing."<p>

"It's stopped snowing."

"Why can't we talk inside?" she grumbled as they plodded through the snow, leaving deep pits in their footsteps.

"We can't have a snowball fight inside," he said.

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in delight. "We're going to have a snowball fight?!"

"Yeah," he grinned.

She tugged free of his grasp and bent to scoop a handful of snow.

"Wait, there are rules to this game," he stalled her.

"How come you get to make the rules?"

"My game, my rules."

She threw the half-scrunched snow mound at him. "That is not fair!" Then she took off giggling as he chased after her.

Their gait was ungainly and when she tripped, he caught her and they rolled around laughing. "You don't play by the rules," he chided, looking into her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He looked at her mouth, then at her laughing gaze, then reluctantly got to his feet, hauling her up after him.

"We're going to play my game first. We're going to make a snowball for what we love and what we hate about each other, and then we're going to hit each other with it."

"I go first right?" Olivia raced off to make her first ball. "Hate or love first?"

"You get to choose." Before he finished speaking, she hit him with handful of icy flakes.

"I hate that you dragged me out here in the cold!" She yelled, then she hit him with another snowball, "But I loved the snowball fight idea!"

When his turn came, he hit her with "I hate how you won't tell me what's wrong! I love you!"

"That's cheating!" She pelted him with another volley. "I hate how you push me to do things I don't want! But I love the way you do it sometimes."

"I hate you for being stubborn and I love you."

"Cheating!" She pelted him again. "I hate that you want me to give up my job!"

"I hate that you're not beside me when I'm doing mine!"

"I don't want to be mannequin!"

"Do you want to marry me?" he threw a snowball at her.

"Yes!" She hit him back. "But I think we should wait!"

"I don't want to wait!"

"This isn't about what you want! What about what I want?!"

"What do you want?! Tell me what you _want_! Not what you _should_ want!" He lobbed an extra large snowball at her.

She paused as it smashed into her chest. "I want to be me. I want to be Olivia Pope. I want to fix things. I'm good at fixing things, I run a successful business fixing things and I earn good money doing that. I'm functional, Fitz. I don't want to be ornamental."

"So you don't want to get married?"

"I don't know."

Just then they heard excited barking followed by laughter and shouts from Jerry and Karen.

"Can we play too?"

"Yes!" Olivia laughed hugging the kids and the dogs, and then they all had another massive snowball fight during which Fitz managed to laugh and play as if the love of his life hadn't just pushed him off the edge of a cliff.

* * *

><p>Fitz managed to keep up the pretence all the way through brunch, without actually talking to, or meeting Olivia's gaze.<p>

When Karen and Jerry said they were going bowling in the White House basement, he watched Olivia escape with Teddy, heading for the Map Room with Daisy and Darth on her heels.

After a moment, he followed too, overriding his initial hesitation at wanting to marshal his thoughts; of needing to have a clear plan of attack before he confronted her again. But watching her walk away, he knew they needed to talk even if he hadn't formed a single persuasive thought in his head.

He stood watching her for a long moment, rocking Teddy in her arms, then he heard her speak and realised even she was at a loss of what to do next.

"This is so complicated. I don't want it to be so complicated." He heard her sigh, kissing Teddy's plump cheek. "I've made your Da mad."

"I'm not mad."

Olivia turned swiftly, her eyes widening at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, watching them.

With an honesty that didn't have any finesse, he blurted, "I'm just sad, Olivia. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say." He inhaled a deep breath. "Do you want to be with me?"

She nodded, resting her cheek against Teddy's head. The dogs wagged their tails.

He came further into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Then we won't get married. We can be partners, together. Here. Just like we are now. We'll have a modern relationship in this old building. Show the people that we're no different to–"

"Fitz…" she interrupted. "Don't…" And then she bit her lip, tears gathering in her dark, soulful eyes.

In an instant he was at her side, gathering her and Teddy in a hug.

"Da!" Teddy chortled, slapping his father's chin as Olivia buried her face in his chest.

"I don't want to imagine a life without you, Livvie. It wouldn't be a life without you," he whispered into her hair.

She rubbed her cheek against his thick sweater. "I'm scared."

He stilled against her. "Scared of what?"

"Scared of turning into Mellie."

Just when he thought they'd manoeuvred past an ice floe, it turned out he'd gone and hit the iceberg.

Fitz drew her away from his chest so he could look into her face. "You are not Mellie. You couldn't be Mellie. It's impossible for you to be Mellie."

Olivia gave him a weak smile, then as Teddy did a little dance in her arms, she moved away to start wandering aimlessly around the room.

"Livvie, talk to me."

She came to a halt, swaying with Teddy in her arms. "I know that part of why you love me is because of what I do. I'm an independent woman. I have my own business. I don't need you for material support. I feel like we're equals in that sense, even though you're the Leader of the Free World and I'm just a Fixer. I don't feel less when I'm with you."

"You're not less. You can never be less," he said hoarsely.

"But don't you see, I spent years building my career, years proving myself, years earning respect and trust. If I gave it up, I'd lose the biggest part of myself that gives me confidence, that makes me feel successful... and then what would I have? I'd just be the wife, craving your admiration and maybe even your attention, while you meet other exciting, amazing, independent career women who'll be more fascinating than me. Presidents, Prime Ministers, Queens, CEOs, astronauts, Olympians, chart-topping pop stars..."

Fitz stared at her for several long minutes before saying slowly, almost in disbelief, "You think that you'll become Mellie and I'll find myself another Olivia Pope."

"Or another Cleopatra or another Marilyn Monroe."

"Livvie." He came up to her, lifting Teddy with one arm, while he gathered her close with the other, wanting to absorb her whole. "There'll never be another you for me. Or another anyone else. I've waited so long to find you – do you think I'm just going to throw you away just like that? Can't you see me trying to hang onto you like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff by his fingertips? You're not stepping into Mellie's shoes, Livvie, you're stepping into your own. You have a place in my heart that's virgin territory; where no one has gone before you."

Teddy chortled when Olivia laughed, but he could tell she was crying, so he hugged her closer.

"I love you." He kissed the top of her head, then felt like smiling when Teddy rested his cheek on the spot he had kissed, prompting an audible sob from Olivia.

Releasing a deep sigh, he held them both, whispering, "I'm not letting you go, Livvie. You're mine. I can't let you go."

When the two dogs whined, Olivia pulled away to stroke their heads reassuringly. Then she straightened, wiping at her cheeks. "It's not you I'm worried about, Fitz. It's being First Lady. From being an independent career woman, I'll be a kept woman in the Crown Jewel of the American Prison system."

"Livvie, I'm enjoying my incarceration ever since you joined me in the Executive Residence Cell Block."

She gave a shaky laugh. "You say the sweetest things."

He grinned, but the grin vanished when she added,"The Office of the First Lady has a lot of traditions and I'm not sure I'm a good fit."

He leaned towards her. "Make your own tradition. Be your own person, Livvie. I'm not expecting you to follow in the footsteps of Eleanor Roosevelt, Mamie Eisenhower or Hilary Clinton. I want to blaze your own trail. Set a new standard here at the White House. Do your own thing. Have a career outside The White House. I don't care."

"You know I can't keep running my business. There would always be the potential for a conflict of interest, like..."

"...Artie Hornbacher." They both said together.

Then Fitz said firmly, "We'll agree on a Chinese Wall – we keep our interests separate. Our working lives separate."

"It won't work."

"We make it work, Liv. If we make it work, we'll shatter the glass ceiling for all future First Ladies with career ambitions outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue."

Olivia looked at him sceptically.

"Livvie, I want you to be happy, and I want you here, with me and the kids."

"Even if that means I'll end up embarrassing you in front of everyone in my worn-again designer clothes?"

"Maybe Huck and I can come to some kind of arrangement about dealing with your detractors."

She giggled.

"Come here," he said huskily.

"You're holding Teddy."

Fitz held open Teddy's arms, and repeated, "Come here."

She laughed, and came closer to wrap her arms around them.

"Are we good?" He whispered, his lips brushing her temple.

"We're good."

"Gah!" Teddy agreed. Darth and Daisy added a couple of lazy woofs as they lay sprawled on the carpet.

Fitz chuckled, as Olivia snuffled a laugh into his chest, and warmth melted the cold knot in his belly.

"Okay," she said after a while.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you – on Valentine's day."

* * *

><p>(<strong>AN: Hellooooo, sooo good to be back (I truly did miss you all!). Thank you soooo much for the votes of confidence… but remember that was only chapter One… potential to crash and burn remains high ;))))) (I say this gleefully!).**

**So yes, crazy Mellie had a predecessor apparently - the information about Mary Todd Lincoln was taken from the serialised PDFs available on the Knox College website of Michael Burlingame's '****_Abraham Lincoln: A Life_****'. The reference to Mary's mental illness can before in Chapter Six entitled ****_'It would just kill me to Marry Mary Todd_****' - this PDF can be found as a stand-alone on Google search. There's another article '****_Insane or Just Difficult_****', on the Mary Todd Lincoln biography by Jean H Baker, which was a book review written by Polly Longsworth for The New York Times on Sep 13, 1987.**

**And um... I've retired the 3 media commentators in Part I, and brought in 3 new ones - hopefully their 'voices' sound different:)**

**And much as I'd love to add Michelle Obama to the list of pioneers, she can't exist in this story unfortunately (but her work will inspire Olivia. Just as Fitz is reaping the benefits of President Barack Obama's work!)**

**BTW, have I said how much I loooooove your comments! THANK YOUUUUUU!**


	3. Tactical Planning

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #GoKERRY #GoodLuck GoldenGlobes! **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"A white wedding in the White House." Cyrus peered out at the snow covered Rose Garden, standing beside Fitz in the Oval Office. "Don't you think it's too soon after Mellie's death? Not that I particularly miss her Lady Macbeth impersonations in these hallowed halls. And I did volunteer to organise a New Orleans Jazz funeral but you vetoed the idea."<p>

Cyrus paused to acknowledge the wry glance Fitz angled his way, before continuing, "The point is that even Woodrow Wilson waited more than a year to re-marry after his first wife died of Bright's disease."

"You think it will be less of a scandal if I wait a respectable length of time before marrying Olivia? And who decides how long that should be? Olivia is the love of my life, Cy. I don't want to wait. I can't afford to wait. Life is too uncertain to be blasé about waiting."

"How about Spring? It's not that far away, and the roses will be in bloom. We could set up a nice marquee; tea on the lawn; a couple of swans instead of penguins, an igloo and ice-fishing. The aesthetics would be better. And Ella could toddle around with Teddy, with James chasing after them, to make sure they don't topple the five-tier wedding cake and the champagne pyramid. I'd say Spring."

"We're getting married. On Valentine's Day. This year."

There was a silence as they both watched the snowflakes swirl in the wind. Then Cyrus muttered, "On the bright side, I don't think it's as much of a scandal as President Grover Cleveland marrying his daughter at the White House."

"Cleveland married the daughter of his best friend."

"Frances Folsom was his legal ward, and he'd known her from the day she was born. Not to mention the fact that she was 27 years younger than Cleveland."

"Why is that marriage more scandalous than what happened to his son – the child, many believed he'd fathered? The boy was forcibly taken from the mother and put in an orphanage. What's more, the public voted for Cleveland as President not once, but twice after knowing all that."

"From what I understand of that many-headed beast we called Public Opinion, the American people are kinder to those who admit their indiscretions."

"Hmm..."

Again both men stared out at the winter wonderland of the landscape beyond.

* * *

><p>Across town, Olivia sat at the OPA conference table facing her associates. "How do you feel about all this?"<p>

"It's business as usual, or business as _unusual_ as it's been since you moved into the White House," Abby shrugged.

"But I'll be even less hands-on than I have been lately," Olivia pointed out. "Will you be okay to self-manage for awhile?"

"How long is that?" Huck frowned.

"Four years," Harrison muttered.

"That's not guaranteed," Olivia hastened to add.

"Maybe we can all work for you at the White House," Quinn suggested.

"No chance." Harrison shook his head. "If you thought it was bad, what they put us through for dinner with the family. Wait until they start digging up our dirty little secrets in the process of getting us cleared to breathe oxygen in the West Wing."

There was a silence.

"I don't want to work in the White House," Huck said grimly.

"Me neither."

"Yeah, I'm good over here."

Olivia sat back in her seat. "If we are more or less comfortable with the new situation. You need to be aware that some clients may have a problem with my name being on the door when I'm..."

"In bed with the President," Abby said.

"..._married_ to the President," Olivia corrected. "So you may have to free-lance from time to time."

"So we don't just provide a confidential service, we'll even go undercover?" Quinn clarified, then grinned. "Cool."

"_Cool_? How old are you?" Abby frowned.

"Younger than you."

Harrison remained focused on Olivia. "How will the new dynamic work— we'll be solving cases as independent contractors but we still report to you?"

"An ad hoc franchise?"

"Be your own boss, then report to the boss?"

"Do I have to move my computers out of here?"

"No, no one has to move out. Not unless you want to. We will work as we have been, and make any necessary changes to the new structure as we move forward. Basically, what I need you to know is that I may have to decline clients, you may want to help independently."

"You think we'll still have clients after they learn we're just the_ A_ in associates without the _OP _in Olivia Pope," Harrison gave her a considering look.

Abby sat forward. "If they don't, we'll have to increase the volume to make up for the shortage in big name clients who pay big bucks."

"We're going to be ambulance chasers?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"I can change the 911 call system so the ambulance chases us."

The others looked at Huck, then Olivia held up a hand. "No one is going to change anything. Especially not to the 911 emergency system. And you aren't going to chase ambulances. We're going to do this. We're going to make this work."

"I can't talk to clients," Huck scowled.

"Harrison and Quinn can talk to clients," Olivia said.

"What about me?" Abby sat up.

"Harrison and Quinn will deal with the meet-and-greet aspect for potential clients and you will be the closer. You will tell them what needs to be done after they've signed the contract and paid us a retainer. Huck will be the operations centre. Any questions?" Olivia asked. "Are you with me?"

The other four looked at each other, then looked at Olivia and said in unison. "Over a cliff."

* * *

><p>"Madam Vice President, how are we this fine afternoon in the ice box of the United States?"<p>

Sally Langston paused for a moment as she exited the Senate Chamber, then continued walking. "Hollis Doyle, as I live and breathe. And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Now, why would you suspect an ulterior motive when I'm here to wish you the best for the New Year."

"Hollis, the day you don't have an ulterior motive is a day I will see a pig grow wings and fly."

"A pig might well be flying in this blizzard, the folks out here call a little gust of wind."

"Yes, it is a cold day in hell, now why have you come to warm your socks by my fire?"

Hollis smiled. "Ah, a woman who gets straight to the point. I like that about you, Sally. Now, a little birdie told me that we're going to have a wedding ceremony over at the White House."

"My, my, what noise these little birdies make when they forget to fly south for the winter."

"So you didn't get a wedding invite either. Glad to know it wasn't just me."

"From what I heard, and my sources are far more reliable than your birds, it's going to be a small wedding. Family only. In consideration of the poor dear wife who is no longer with us."

"That was a tragedy."

"Deeply felt by you, I'm sure."

"Now, Sally, what could you possibly mean by that?"

"Hollis, it is no secret that you wound that poor woman up like an eight-day clock and let her loose in all her madness on Olivia Pope."

"I didn't know the woman was certifiable. I just wanted her to distract Fitz from the business of governing. You know that man and his ideals are the worst thing that can happen to us as Americans and the rights conferred by our citizenry. Hell, we're barely a couple of weeks into the New Year and he's got the Gun Lobby and Corporate America baying for his blood."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you need to step up your game, Madam Vice President. Olivia ain't no dress-up doll wanting Fitzy Boy at her beck and call. She's a fixer. And if she starts fixing El Presidente's problems, the world as we know it will end. Now, I don't know about you, Sally, but I like being in the top 10 per cent controlling 80 per cent of this country's assets. I don't want to downsize my gas-guzzling jet for a four-door electric monstrosity that's forever stuck in traffic."

"So you want me to help you maintain your choice of lifestyle?"

"That is cynical but accurate. So what say we find a nice quiet place to discuss our mutual beneficial partnership?"

"We have no such thing, Hollis."

"Oh but we could, Sally. You just aren't aware of the benefits of my plans, starting with the wedding. I was going to recommend that you take a bit more interest in the arrangements."

"The arrangements? I have no concern of the arrangements – small or large, I am grateful that the leader of this nation is no longer co-habiting without shame."

"Sally, let me help you understand the bigger picture, outside the narrow confines of everything you consider holy. In my book, co-habitation is a good thing. For you. I mean just consider the alternative on the ballot for all them church-going, God-fearing, Bible-versed folk come election time."

Sally stopped and turned to Hollis. "Hollis, I do believe you may be of some use to me after all."

* * *

><p>"Oh it's you." James peered at the figured hunched on the garden chair.<p>

"Of course, it's me." Cyrus growled. "Who else would it be?"

"That's what I came to find out," James brushed off the pile of snowflakes that had settled on his husband's shoulders. "All I could see was a snow-covered mound scaring away the owls. I had to do something before Ella sees you, and starts having nightmares for the rest of her life."

"Hrmph."

James sat down on the chair next to Cyrus.

"Is there a reason you're out here doing your best gargoyle impression?"

"Fitz is getting married."

"Oh yay!" James clapped his hands

Cyrus glowered at him. "Do you have to do that when Ella isn't around?"

"Sorry," James muttered. "Force of habit. But why is this upsetting you? I thought we were all aboard the Olitz love train."

"Olitz?" Cyrus scowled.

"Olivia and Fitz – Olitz. That's what the media is calling them… well, the parts of the media that's fangirling about our two lovebirds. I won't repeat what the nasties are saying about them."

"It's those nasties that have got me worried! Those nasties have a lot of influence and this is an election year!"

"It doesn't feel like it's an election year."

"Precisely! Fitz is acting like this is his second year in office! Granted the momentum was lost due to no fault of his own – first there was the wife attempting to throw Olivia under the bus every chance she got; then the shooting; now there's the wedding. What I want to know is - when will it be the _re-election campaign_?!"

"After the wedding?"

"It's too soon to have a wedding! Wife number one is still fresh on people's minds and he's bringing on board Wife Number Two – what is he thinking?"

"That it would have been better if he were a Mormon. Then he could have had a plural marriage, married Mrs Looney Tunes with an official licence, and married Olivia in a private ceremony. That would tick all the standard boxes, marriage, recognised by a church, not living in sin, two wives. Everyone is happy."

Cyrus glared at James, who raised a questioning brow, "What?"

"This is a serious conversation."

"Agreed. That's why I'm out here freezing my extremities, talking to Mr Gloom-and-Doom. What you need to understand, Cy, is that Olivia and Fitz are in love. I can see they're in love. Everyone with two functioning brain cells can see they're in love. They are cute. They're sweet. They remind me of kittens, baby otters and bunny rabbits. They should get married and have smushy babies. Ella needs more friends."

"Will you get your mind out of a petting zoo and look at the real picture! We're running for re-election without the Wicked Witch of the West to fake smiles and coo at babies. We have Olivia who is beautiful, smart, articulate but black. We have Fitz, less beautiful, smart, articulate and thinking he's a Democrat. They are in love. It's true – but you know what: _NO ONE CARES_! Being in love is not essential to being President! And we are running out of time on a happy ending for our re-election campaign!"

"I think you're wrong. I think people do want to see people in love, even in the top job. That's why we believe in the fairytale of Jackie and Jack Kennedy in Camelot. I personally think you should use the wedding as part of the campaign."

Cyrus gave an exasperated sigh. "What?"

"Don't you see, it's free publicity, coast-to-coast, and worldwide, through every medium available because we love weddings – just look at the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge as an example – three billion people around the world watched the nuptials."

"Not all of them can vote in an American Presidential Election."

"Every billion counts, Cy."

"Tell that to the couple who want a _small_ wedding. A _quiet_ wedding. _Family_ only."

"So we're not invited? ... Oh. I was so looking forward to getting a cute little fairy floss dress for Ella to wear."

"I don't think they've decided on the guest list yet."

"So who's helping them plan the wedding?"

"No one."

"_No one_? The First Presidential Wedding in the White House in 128 years and _no one_ is planning their wedding?"

"I told you, it's just family and they want to keep it private."

"Private?! The whole world will be watching from afar! They'll be clamouring for pictures, gossip, copies of the menu! People will be getting book deals out of this!" James paused to take a breath. "I should do this."

"Do what?"

"Plan their wedding."

"Don't be ridiculous! You're a journalist. Not a wedding planner."

"I need to branch out, explore other options. Do you know how many journalists lose their jobs every year – at least a couple of thousand. And wedding planning as a small business enterprise is on the increase. Besides I organised our wedding. You didn't complain."

"I couldn't. The white tie you got for my tux was too tight."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I know that James Novak has been made White House Press Secretary – but then after reading '****_No 'Scandal' in liberal use of dramatic licens_****e' by Jonathan Capehart in Washington Post, Jan 2, 2014 – where the journalist says that '****_you will never see a reporter covering the White House married to the White House staff'_****. Normally I would use that dramatic licence of forgetting inconvenient truths … BUT in this instance, I've decided to listen to reality and give James a career change – so Cyrus wouldn't have to think of ways to kill him. Ella needs James in her life.**

**And by the way, Wedding Planning is apparently a lucrative and easy business to get into for first-timers – see ****_Startup Wedding Planners Explore Niche Markets to Stand Out_**** - Emily Meehan in Entrepreneur April 19,2013. Compare that to the woes of journalism careers in ****_ASNE census finds 2,600 newsroom jobs were lost in 2012_**** by Rick Edmonds in Poynter, June 25, 2013.**

**Also you can read up on more real-life scandals in American politics via ****_America's Forgotten Presidential Sex Scandal_**** by Charles Lachman, published in the Daily Beast on May 23, 2011 and ****_Ye Olde Sex Scandals: Grover Cleveland's Love Child_**** by Elisabeth Donnelly written The Awl on February 9, 2010.**

**Seriously, the real stuff is waaaaaay better than fiction!**


	4. Strategic Planning

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #LateDelivery #TooMuchTrawling-KerryPics-GoldenGlobes-babybump! **

**Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers: No Mellie, No Joke  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Olivia entered the welcome heat of her office building, and walked briskly towards the conference room, pulling off her scarf and gloves. Then stopped at the sight of James chatting with OPA; while Ella scribbled with a marker pen on sheets of paper, sitting on the table.<p>

"James," She gave a quizzical look. "This is a lovely surprise."

He stood up grinning. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The look that says – 'Should I be worried that you are here with my god-daughter?' That look."

"Oh," Olivia finished removing her gloves. "Should I be?"

"Let's talk." James picked Ella off the table, when she was in the middle of a staring match with Huck.

"Okay..." Olivia glanced at her associates who either shrugged or shook their heads. "I guess you better step into my office."

"Nice place you have here."

"Thank you."

"It'll be tough change to go from career woman to a glorified house wife after you get married."

"Not that much is changing. I'm going to keep my business, even after I marry Fitz."

James peered at her from the top of his glasses, but he waited until he'd taken a seat on the couch in Olivia's office and settled Ella on his knee before saying, "How are you going to fit all the teas, lunches, dinners, committees and presentations you'll have to give with your normal business schedule?"

"That is a work-in-progress." Olivia smiled as she sat next to him and held out her hand for Ella to grab. "So tell me, what can you do for me?"

"You need help with your wedding."

"I do..? I mean, I don't. James." She gave a small laugh. "It's going to be private, small, no fuss."

"Olivia, you know it's a big deal. We've been waiting for this wedding since your case in North Carolina. It's a big deal. You can't turn up to the Registry in between client appointments. You need to give the people something more. You're on the world stage now, Olivia. You need to put on a show."

Olivia tilted her head. "That sounds reasonable. I'm just not sure why _you_ would want to make a _career change_ by helping me. I need to know why you're here."

"Because I want to give you and Fitz a wedding present?"

Olivia shook her head.

"Because I'm bored being a house husband and I need to have at least one adult conversation during the day?"

Olivia smiled. "Maybe, but that's not it."

James sighed. "Okay. I need a contact. Now that Mrs Loo— I mean Mrs Melody Grant is no longer around to keep dangling bait in terms of a story. I need an in."

"You've got Cyrus."

"He dangles shark bait. He's the shark, I'm the bait."

Olivia giggled. "So marriage is heavenly bliss for you both?"

"Peachy blossom bliss. So what do you say? Will you let me organise the best private wedding the White House has seen while I figure out my own little career crisis?"

"So you're not going into Wedding Planning as a business."

"That's what I've told Cyrus, and I'd like him to keep thinking that for as long as possible..." James paused. "Not that I'm bragging but I did a great job organising my own wedding and I do know a thing or two about the media game. I can help. As a friend."

"This is very kind of you but are you sure you want to do this? The pain might be greater than the gain."

James smiled. "Thank you for the warning, but I'm ready."

* * *

><p>"So what did he want?" Abby asked the moment James had left with Ella.<p>

"He wants to help plan my wedding."

"Huh," Abby tapped her fingers on her folded arms. "That guy wants to help you plan your wedding? Isn't he married to the guy who's been trying to keep you and Fitzgerald Grant apart?"

"Cyrus has accepted the inevitable. He's okay with us now."

"Yeah? When did that leopard change its spots?"

"Recently. Vermont."

"As recently as that? Now the husband wants to plan your wedding?" Abby shook her head at Olivia. "You need someone to watch those two."

"Abs, you can't volunteer. We have real clients to deal with. I can't have everyone working on my wedding – my _small, private_ wedding."

"Am I invited?"

"Of course, you're invited."

"Then I'm involved."

* * *

><p>"So that guy is helping Liv with her wedding plans."<p>

The three other associates looked up from their laptops at Abby, then at each other, then back at Abby.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Harrison asked.

"The dude is married to Cyrus Beene, the White House chief of staff; the guy who has been trying to break up Olivia and the President."

"Not sure how I should feel about that, since you were the one who said Liv's PDAs made you nauseous..." Quinn muttered, turning her attention back to the computer.

"Listen, Lindsay!" Abby snapped, "I wasn't trying to sabotage their relationship! I didn't want Liv to get hurt."

Huck shook his head at that. "No, you were sad that David wasn't more like Fitz."

"Look, we're talking about Liv and this wedding planner dude! Not me and David!"

"If Liv is okay with the arrangement, we don't need to get involved," Harrison shrugged.

"_We do_ _need_ _to get involved!_"

"We've got three clients to deal with right now."

"We don't have to deal with them 24/7. We can do this in our spare time."

"Do what?" Huck frowned.

"Wedding need hobbies. This would be a good start."

"Wedding planning as a hobby?"

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>Olivia had just picked up her 'Fitz' phone when it rang. Smiling, she answered, "I was just about to call you…what's up?"<p>

"Haven't changed your mind? Still marrying me?"

"Fitz!" she chuckled. "Yes, I'm still marrying you. And we've got a wedding planner."

"Wow. Okay…who is she?"

"_He _is James Novak."

"James Novak as in _James Novak_ who's married to _Cyrus_ – that James?"

"Yep."

"Interesting... Interesting that Cyrus didn't mention anything."

"Are you okay about James planning our wedding?"

"Haven't you already decided?"

"Yes. But I want to know if you're okay with it."

"Wait, so this isn't a discussion, this is a _debriefing_?"

Olivia paused, then said with mock sternness. "Listen, mister, it's not the same."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"If it quacks like a duck, it's a duck."

"Goodbye, Mr President."

"I love you, Livvie."

He waited.

She waited.

"Livvie..."

She relented, and sighed. "I love you, too, Fitz."

"Come over."

"What? No! I'm meeting with a client."

"When?"

"Later."

"Stop by on your way."

"No."

* * *

><p>"Olivia Pope. This is a providential coincidence. I hear congratulations are in order and I have been meaning to give them to you in person. So congratulations, my dear, on your engagement to Fitzgerald Grant."<p>

Olivia smiled at Sally Langston as they stood in the corridor leading to the Oval Office. "Thank you. That's very kind, but we haven't issued an official announcement yet."

"I should hope not, in light of the fact that the first Mrs Grant is barely cold in her grave. Good taste would dictate that you wait a decent amount of time before making an announcement about her replacement. I would have expected Fitzgerald to wait at least a year before presenting the world with a new wife."

Olivia let the smile fade from her face. "We're getting married on Valentine's Day."

"So that rumour is true?"

"Yes, it is. Now if you will excuse me, I'm on my way to see Fitz."

"Actually," Sally put a hand on Olivia's arm. "There is a business matter that I need to discuss. In private. If you can spare a few minutes, it won't take long…"

* * *

><p>Olivia turned the corner, exiting out of Sally's West Wing office, and walked straight into a solid male chest.<p>

"Hi," she mumbled into the light blue shirt and navy tie that her face was plastered against.

"Hi." A chuckle gusted over the top of her head.

She drew back. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here as your personal tour guide." He lifted his hands to cup her face. "Since it's apparent you need directions to _my _office."

"Ha, ha, funny." She scrunched her nose at him, earning herself a kiss.

He smiled against her mouth. "We need to continue this conversation somewhere more private."

"Private, that would be nice," Olivia drew back, waving a greeting at his Secret Service agents, and a few other White House aides walking past.

He grinned, dropping his hands from her face to reach out and take one of hers. "So just to be clear – this is the West Wing."

"I know."

"We have a lot of offices here. It's easy to get lost"

"I didn't get lost."

"You are close, but just a little way off from the Oval Office."

"I know where the Oval Office is."

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't get lost."

"Fitz!"

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "You really are cute when you get mad."

Olivia maintained a dignified silence until they reached the Oval Office. Then she just had time to say hello to Lauren before she was taken inside and backed against the closed door to be kissed with enough heat to scorch the walls.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" Fitz demanded, when he released her mouth to begin feathering kisses over her face. "And you kept me waiting…"

"Sally Langston wanted to talk…" She muttered huskily, between kisses.

"What did she want?"

"I can't tell you. It's business. My business."

He drew back. "You've got dirt on Sally and you're not telling me?"

"Fitz, it's not Sally and no, I'm not going to tell you."

"Livvie, I'm going to be your husband. We shouldn't have secrets."

She raised a brow and gave him a long silent stare.

"What?" He grinned at her.

"You said we would make the Chinese Wall work between your job and mine. This is not making it work."

He studied her, then let his gaze wander to her lips. "You're so beautiful…"

"I'm not telling you."

"What if I kiss you just here…?" He bent low to suckle her neck.

She gasped, but managed to mutter, "…N-no…"

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Olivia found herself facing the client that Sally had referred, in the home of a mutual acquaintance. The man sat across from her at the kitchen table, his pugnacious brow scrunched in worry.<p>

"Ms Pope, I've gotta say you were highly recommended, very highly indeed, but there's this rumour you're marrying the President."

"It's not a rumour."

The admission seemed to stump the man. "So how does this work? Because you and I aren't here right now."

"I promised you confidentiality, and you will get confidentiality."

"No pillow talk?"

Olivia raised a brow, but answered calmly, "No pillow talk."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"Would you like me to give you that assurance in writing?"

"No, no!" The man's chins shook in vehemence. "Nothing in writing! That's how we got in this mess in the first place." But his suspicious expression remained. "The President isn't one of my biggest fans."

"He could say the same of you. You endorsed Sally Langston at the last election."

"You know that? And you still want to help?"

"This is a business transaction. If you want my help, you've got it. But no one's forcing your hand to accept."

"Desperation is forcing my hand, Ms Pope. I'm in the running for the next Presidential election, but this bridge fiasco has put a roadblock in my plans."

"You may need to delay those plans."

"Is that your objective opinion, because I'm running against your husband?"

"We're not married yet, and I am confident that Fitz will win a second term. Confident enough to give you an objective opinion."

"And in your '_objective_' opinion, what should I do?"

"Admit the truth."

"If that's your solution then we can stop wasting each others time right." The man stood, Olivia remained seated.

"We're done here." The man said.

"I haven't finished my coffee," Olivia raised her mug.

Again the man looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. "Look, I'm not playing games here, Ms Pope. My whole career is about to hit the crapper. I need solid advice."

"And I'm giving it to you. Take it or leave it. But what I'm telling you to do is the exact opposite of what you've been doing - and let's take a minute to review how well that is going for you - you've got bloggers hacking into your work emails; you've got your peers calling you a liar; you've got the public calling for your resignation; and potential lawsuits from the residents in two boroughs. Have I left anything out?"

"No," the man collapsed back on the chair. "You've covered everything. For now."

"There's more?"

"Let's just deal with what we've got. What do you recommend?"

"You need to take responsibility."

"I have. I've fired the staff involved."

"That's not taking responsibility, that's shifting blame. This happened under your watch, you take it on the chin. You call the Mayor and you apologise, publicly. You may have to extend a substantive measure of support - funding for a project or an endorsement - which should be negotiated in private. Call a press conference, answer the questions that are put to you, directly, humbly, apologetically. Meet with the residents, especially the residents threatening legal action, talk to them, apologise in person, that will help any settlement you reach out of court. And you need to let everyone know what you are doing, and how things are changing so they can trust this won't happen again... under your watch."

"That's what you recommend?"

"That's what I recommend."

The man looked at her thoughtfully. "You need more coffee?"

* * *

><p>Olivia sighed in relief as she got into the car and put on her seat belt.<p>

"Sorry, that took longer than I expected," She looked over at Huck as he started the car.

"It's okay. I didn't have anything else to do."

She glanced at the burger wrappers and drink containers littering the centre console and asked, "Still hungry? I can take you back to my place and cook dinner?"

"The White House?"

"No, my apartment."

"You don't have anything in your apartment except for green cheese, popcorn kernels and red wine. I'm good," he said. Then added after they turned at the corner. "You're being followed."

"What?" She turned to stared out the rear window, unable to see a vehicle. "Who is following us?"

"The Secret Service."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I have to say: I'm struggling a bit with this story. It's not flowing as easily as the other one. I don't know what the problem is... too much sleep, fibre, research... not enough story, chocolate, cool air... VERMONT! **

**(Psst: I've been spending too much time on fashion sites trying to figure out the wedding dress that Olivia should wear – need words to describe the picture in my head!)**

**So to get over these not-exactly-writer's-block-but-definitely-writer's-blues, I went out in 40-Celsius weather today and fried my scalp to find clarity in the fog of confusion that is my brain right now (Early dementia? Late puberty?). **

**Anyway thank you to the readers who are keeping the faith (seriously, I need you to tell me whatever it is you are taking - I need it!).**

**And my Author's Notes should carry a disclaimer - please disregard everything I say after each chapter as I'm likely to change my mind in the next chapter (aiyo, apoiy, aney as they say in my language!) **

**Aaand, I need to use the ****_Law and Order_**** disclaimer: inspired by true events but this story is entirely fictional and does not depict an actual person or event (even though I've been reading up on ****_Crisis Management Advice for Chris Christie_**** by Abby D Phillip, Jan 9, 2014 on abcnew website and ****_Stephen Harper should take crisis management lessons from NJ Gov. Chris Christie_**** on Canadian yahoo news by Andy Radia on Jan 9, 2014 – that is a mere coincidence!)**


	5. Security Measures

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #StillTrawling-KerryPics GoldenGlobes! **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>It was late, and Olivia didn't bother knocking before she stormed into the Oval Office, to find Fitz behind the Resolute desk, calmly reading a report.<p>

"You are having me _followed_?!"

Fitz looked up, his hand suspended mid-air, then he closed the file carefully and got to his feet. "The guys were supposed to be discreet."

"_Discreet_?" Olivia glared at him.

Tom, having followed Olivia into the room, said in mild defence. "They were discreet, sir. But Olivia's man, Huck spotted them."

Olivia shifted her irate gaze from Fitz to Tom and back again. "This—!"

"Is for your own protection, Livvie," Fitz cut in soothingly, "The Secret Service has to follow you. It's the law."

"United States Code Title 18, section 3056," Tom added helpfully.

Olivia glared at him in outrage. "That section is to protect the President and everyone in line to succeed his office!"

"And their immediate families, ma'am."

"You are my immediate family, Livvie."

"I am _not_ your immediate family because we're not married! Which means you had to issue an Executive Order to have me followed!"

Fitz glanced at Tom, then focused back on Olivia. "You're right I did issue an executive order."

Tom cleared his throat. "Permission to leave, sir."

"Permission granted, Tom."

After Tom had made a quick exit, Fitz faced Olivia. "On a scale of one to 10, how mad are you? Twenty? Thirty-five?"

"This is not funny."

"Keeping you safe is a serious concern of mine."

"How long have you had me followed?"

He hesitated before admitting, "I've had a detail on you since the KKK." When she gaped at him, he hastened to add, "But they were under strict instructions to be discreet because I knew you wouldn't like it."

"So when I went to Blair House to see Mellie the night you were drunk...did Jerry send Tom?"

"No."

She didn't respond to that, except to stare at him solemnly as he approached.

"I love you, Livvie. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"The Secret Service couldn't prevent John F Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, you or Mellie from getting shot. There is no absolute guarantee of safety."

Slowly, cautiously he gathered her into his arms. "I know, but it's the idea of safety that I need sometimes; to know that you're not rushing into volatile situations on your own."

"I'm not on my own. I've got Huck."

"Huck doesn't report to me. And I hate not knowing what's going on with you. Not knowing if you're okay. This needs to be done, Livvie. Not just for my peace of mine, but because it's a legal requirement when you are my wife."

"Fitz…confidentiality is a big deal in my business. How can I guarantee that to my clients when you've got people following me?"

"I only know where you go, and who you meet. No one's listening to what you say, I haven't authorised that. You still have a degree of confidentiality. My people are just watching out for you." He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb lightly over her soft lips. "Nothing more."

She allowed the featherlight caress for a moment, then sighed, "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine. There's nothing I can do to stop you, and I'll have to get used to the idea of having them around once I'm married to you."

He gave an audible groan of relief, easing her into a tight hug. "Thank you. I was going to tell you after we were married."

"You mean when it was obvious that there were guys in suits following me in plain sight?"

"Yeah."

Olivia drew back to look at him. "What else are you going to tell me after the wedding?"

"I'll tell you after the wedding."

* * *

><p>After leaving Fitz to finish reading his highly confidential intelligence report, Olivia went to check on the kids; all fast asleep, with the dogs either curled up on beds or lying stretched out on the carpet but alert enough to wag their tails silently when she looked in.<p>

Closing the last bedroom door quietly, Olivia stood for a moment staring blindly at the wooden surface before making her way to the bedroom. The silence was unnerving, so she switched on the TV and began pacing the carpet, before deciding to change out of her clothes and do a bit of yoga to calm her mind.

She was doing the supported yoga headstand when Fitz barged in, and slammed the door shut behind him, prompting her to straighten up instantly.

"Fitz! What's wrong?"

"You went to see Governor Kris Klunkett?!"

Olivia placed her hands on her hips. "Did you get the Secret Service report now? Snail pace. You need to improve their reporting times."

"Olivia, this is not about timing, this about Klunkett - you can't have that man as a client!"

"I have only two words to say to you – Chinese Wall." Olivia stripped off her top and pants, then sauntered off naked to take a shower, leaving a sudden silence behind her.

She had just finished adjusting the water temperature to her ideal when the Fitz entered the shower stall equally naked and glared at her.

"Did you just use your sexy butt to distract me?"

"If that's what you think I did, you would be correct," she said cheekily, sliding her arms around his waist and drawing him close.

"Your hair is getting wet," he murmured huskily, stroking his hands over her the spiralling curls.

"Mmm...a shower cap won't get me in the mood to seduce you."

"Your seduction routine hasn't distracted me from the fact that you went to see Klunkett. He can't be your client."

"Too late."

"Livvie, I don't want him associated too closely with this administration."

"He's not associated with your administration. he's associated with _my_ business. He's trying to solve the media fall-out over a traffic issue."

Fitz gusted a laugh. "Traffic issue? That's the least of his problems. He's being accused of using disaster relief funds to bankroll his own media advertising."

"He didn't tell me about that. Maybe I need to set up a follow-up appointment."

"Olivia, the Housing Inspector General is going to launch a federal investigation. I don't want you anywhere near him."

"Fitzgerald, you agreed to stay out of my business."

He smoothed his hands down her back. "I agreed to let you have a career outside the White House – how do you feel about teaching law at George Washington University?"

"Like my dad? In case you missed the press release – I don't want to be like my dad. I'm trying to be my own person, and to keep doing my job, which is crisis management."

Fitz dropped his head to touch hers. "Can I change my mind about what I said?"

"No."

He smoothed a hand up her belly to cover a breast, stroking his thumb over a nipple. "Livvie..."

She arched towards him, whispering. "Your seduction routine isn't going to change my mind either."

He backed her against the tiled walls, lifting her so she would wrap her legs around his hips. "I haven't even started my seduction routine," he growled, kissing her lazily as her hands swept through his hair and over his shoulders.

"Neither have I," she whispered, tugging at his lower lip, making him forget the topic of conversation.

* * *

><p>"Mr President, we have a problem."<p>

Fitz dragged his thoughts away from a naked, sated Olivia and focused on his security advisors during the customary daily briefing the following morning.

"Our intelligence was correct. North Korea has gone ahead with nuclear test we believed it would carry out. A tremor with a nuclear bomb signature was detected by the China Earthquake Networks Centre, CTBTO and US Geological Survey."

"So this is the F-U we were expecting in response to UN Security Council resolution 2087 expanding the existing sanctions on North Korea including asset freezes and travel bans on North Korean companies and officials."

"Yes, sir. South Korea has increased its military alert status and Japan is calling for an emergency security council meeting. The Chinese government is talking to the North Koreans, and has formally admonished the North Korean ambassador in Beijing.

"Set up a press conference, we'll send a strong message expressing our disapproval."

"But wouldn't it be better for the Secretary of State to give that speech."

"In any other year but an election year, yes."

* * *

><p>"I need a favour."<p>

Huck looked at Olivia warily, "Does it involve me wearing a Tux?"

Olivia frowned in confusion, then said, "I need you to check the financials between Governor Kris Klunkett and the media company that's behind his advertising campaign."

"Governor Klunkett, that's the guy you saw last night."

"Yes, but no one is supposed to know that."

"Is there anything else I shouldn't know?"

"Yes, I need a check on the transaction history of the Governor's Disaster Relief Fund."

"I sent two hundred dollars to that fund."

"Yes, we need to know where your money went."

* * *

><p>"Hi, watcha doing?"<p>

"I'm talking to you.

"Besides talking to me, whatcha doing?"

"I'm working. Whatcha doing?"

"I'm here with Teddy. He wants to hello. Say 'hi' to Mommy, Teddy."

Olivia laughed at the chortles and gurgles she heard over the phone, then Fitz was back. "Will you be home for dinner tonight? Karen and Jerry missed you last night."

"I spoke to them before they went to bed."

"I know you did, but I missed you too."

"You got a very personal goodnight well into the morning."

He grunted and sighed deeply, making Olivia gasp a laugh. "Fitz, you're with Teddy."

"Mm... you're fault."

"Okay, goodbye."

"No, don't go."

"I have to," she said gently, "If you want me home in time for dinner, I have to go."

"I love hearing you talk this way. Say something else in that soft, sexy tone."

"Okay reading off the TV screen: Breaking News, North Korea has conducted another nuclear test in violation of United Nations sanctions. The President is due to speak to the nation and we'll be going live to the White House..."

"That wasn't sexy."

"I know, _and _I know you'll be great at the press conference. I'll be watching."

"I love you, Livvie."

"I love you, Fitz. Kiss Teddy for me." She laughed when she heard his noisy kiss on the other end of the phone.

* * *

><p>It was late when she got back to the Residence. She'd missed dinner and the kids were asleep.<p>

Fitz was still awake, reading when she entered their bedroom. But he put the book and his reading glasses away when she dropped her coat and bag on a chair, kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed, fully clothed, to snuggle next to him.

"Good morning," he whispered against her forehead, his arms holding her tight.

She snuffled a laugh. "It's only ten minutes past midnight."

"Long day for you."

"Long day for you, too. Mr Tough-Talking-Sexy President."

"So you were impressed with the press conference?"

"Very impressed. If I wasn't so tired, I'd show just how impressed I am."

They shared a soft laugh, then Fitz murmured, "Tell me what you were up to, then I can be impressed too."

She drew back to look at him, a wry smile touching her lips. "You are so sneaky and so stubborn."

"But you love that about me."

She laughed. "Lucky for you, I'm going to tell you what I've been up to today." She scrambled off the bed and reached for her bag, taking out a USB stick. "Governor Klunkett's financial records and correspondence. Now you can tell the Inspector General where to start looking."

Fitz stared at her for a long moment. Then he took hold of her hand, holding the USB stick, and tugged her down beside him. "I thought he was a client."

Olivia sighed. "Sally wanted me to talk to him, and I thought there might be an advantage for you if I did… but I saw some of his emails. Ones he sent after our meeting last night, he was talking about us. About me, and it wasn't kind…" She smiled when Fitz kissed her cheek roughly, drawing her closer. "It's okay, I'm not upset, and I would have overlooked those emails, if he hadn't taken money out of the disaster relief fund and put it straight into the personal account of the CEO whose agency handled his television ads."

Fitz gave her another kiss, then took the stick from her hand and placed it on the night-table. Olivia narrowed her gaze on him when he started taking off her clothes. "Fitz, are you angry?"

His hands stilled. "No. I'm not angry. I'm... I had this whole speech prepared about why you needed to give up your job. But you've spent the whole day helping me in mine, that I can't say what I want to right now." He looked at her wearily, "Livvie, you're brilliant, and you're brilliant at what you do. I just… I miss you."

"So you want me to give up my job?"

"No, I've been thinking about giving up mine. Pulling out of the campaign to run for a second term. "

"Fitz! You can't! You have to run. Do you want to live in a country run by Sallys or Klunketts or Restons? I don't."

"If I lose, that argument is moot."

"If you lose, we can move to Canada or France – I hear they're in need of a good crisis manager over there."

Fitz gave her a rueful smile. "So we're at an impasse on the Chinese Wall again?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Yes."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I agree with the reviews! I did lose the wit (not sure where it went) and the story has been slow because I was exploring the angst (and then had a crisis of confidence: no jokes AND no sex! How will I do this?). **

**Also in the last story, I had a lot of fun hating Mellie - which showed in my writing. But I still think she needed to go - kaput, not Switzerland. Otherwise OLITZ wouldn't be a true love story, where they explore their relationship without the props she provides.**

**But one of the problems is that I've been trying to resurrect the 'fun' of the last story, instead of exploring the deeper issues as a new story – (leave the past behind!) – and simply get on with issues that I feel Olivia would face (i.e. embracing the difficulties).**

**And as my kind readers have encouraged: I should embrace the current difficulties because there are so many other themes to explore in this situation - not just the interracial aspect (which is HUGE!) but also what it means for Olivia to become First Lady (ornamental); what it means for OPA; etc. **

**Nor do I think Olivia loves Fitz less (either on the show or this story). She just loves differently. For Fitz love is, ****NOT**** letting go of the person because they work better as a couple; for Olivia it is, ****letting go**** of the person because she see doesn't want Fitz to gain her and lose everything else. People are different and I guess part of loving someone else is to accept the way they love you – as long as they are not abusive (either mentally or physically). **

**Also unfortunately, I do have to keep attempting the cloak and dagger stuff because this is politics and politics is all about scheming but I need to bring badass Olivia back eventually, but at the same time convey that this is a new (uncertain) phase in her life (just like mine - OMG I'm projecting! Now, I know what's wrong!). On that note, hopefully by chapter 357, I would have ironed out the kinks. :))))**

**But again THANK YOU ALL because your feedback and encouragement is better than a writing class!**

**In the meantime, here's my research stuff: **

**CTBTO stands for Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty Organisation.**

**The nuclear test stuff is hashed mash or mashed hash taken from : ****_Chronology of U.S.-North Korean Nuclear and Missile Diplomacy_****- Arms Control Association website from an article published April 2013; ****_2013 North Korean nuclear test_**** on Wikipedia; government press release: ****_FACT SHEET: The UN Security Council Responds to North Korea's Launch_****- released Jan 23, 2013; ****_International reactions to the 2013 North Korean nuclear test _****- Wikipedia.**

**And as usual the fictional Klunkett was based on the article****_: Christie Allegedly Diverted Millions In Hurricane Sandy Relief Funds To Pay For TV Ads Starring Himself_**** - Igor volsky published on Think Progress, Jan 13, 2014**


	6. Revised Priorities

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"So Klunkett's been arrested for ethics violations and contravening the Fair Campaign Practices Act. My, my, and that's all before breakfast," Hollis licked a bit of creamy mustard that had escaped his gettysburger onto his thumb. " I'll be guessing that the name Olivia Pope is giving you heartburn right now, Ms Langston."<p>

Sitting opposite Hollis in the limousine heading towards Capitol Hill, Sally Langston cast a sour look. "Klunkett was dispensable. He had delusions of grandeur that I was no longer willing to entertain. Once I discovered that he was stealing money from the destitute, I knew he had to go."

Hollis paused in the act of taking another bit of his burgher, and chortled. "My, my. I do believe I have underestimated the lengths you will go to smite your enemies, Sal."

"I would bear that in mind, Hollis."

"Oh, you don't scare me, Madam Vice President. In fact, it gives me a fuzzy warm glow right down to my custom-made alligator boots to recognise a kindred spirit."

"We have nothing in common except a desire for power. The difference is that I desire it out of Christian goodness, while you are pursuing the seven deadly sins."

"Now, Sal," Hollis burped. "I am almost inclined to feel insulted, because sloth has never been one of my vices."

"Ah, a glimmer of salvation in the cesspit of your soul."

"Don't you worry about my soul, Sally. You'll need more than prayers to get to where you want to go. And I'm talking about them pearly gates of the White House."

"Hollis Doyle, I can assure you that I won't stop until I get my name in that particular Book of Life."

* * *

><p>"Where'd he go?"<p>

"He went into that men's clothing boutique."

"Right. Let's go," Abby grabbed Quinn's elbow and pulled her forward, but Quinn dug her boots into the snow-scattered side walk.

"We can't go in there! It'll be obvious we're following him!"

"Why would it be obvious? We could be going in there to buy a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yeah, for Harrison."

They entered the boutique, pausing when everyone turned to look at the two of them clattering their way in, on polished wooden floorboards. Then Abby hissed, "Don't look so suspicious!"

"_Me_?! That smile is so fake, even a toothpaste commercial would pass."

Before Abby could explode, a sales assistant glided towards them with a pleasant smile. "Ladies, how can I help you today?"

"We're buying a gift," Quinn muttered.

"A tie," Abby said. "Got any of those?"

The man winced, but kept his smile intact. "We have several. If you would care to come this way."

They were about to follow, when Quinn stopped abruptly and hissed, "The eagle is flying!"

Both the assistant and Abby looked at her strangely.

"The eagle we've been chasing," Quinn said fiercely, looking at Abby. "Flap, flap – out, out!" She jerked her head towards the door.

"Oh, that eagle. Yeah, sorry, that tie will have to wait. We've got an eagle to catch," Abby told the worried looking assistant, as she grabbed Quinn's elbow and dragged her out of the store. Only to come to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, seeing James Novak standing there, waiting.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded without preamble.

"We're not following you!" Abby protested.

"Yeah, we went in there to buy a tie," Quinn asserted.

"So where's the tie?"

The women looked at each other, then Quinn said archly, "We couldn't find anything we liked."

"For your S&M party?"

"Yes," said Abby.

"No!" Quinn glared at her. "It was a gift for Harrison."

James studied both women with a cynical gaze. "Nice try. But I'm an investigative reporter, and I've been followed by professionals. The two of you aren't professionals."

"We're professionals!" Abby glared at him.

"_Professional _lawyers," Quinn stressed.

"So I'll ask you again why are you following me? Did Olivia put you up to this?"

"No! This is all Abby's idea," Quinn muttered.

Abby scowled. "What Lindsay meant to say is that we want to help you organise Olivia's wedding."

"Olivia's wedding? That's why you're following me?"

The other two nodded.

"So you want to give up your day jobs earning $1000 an hour, to help me organise a wedding for free? And Olivia's okay with this?"

"It's a surprise, and we're doing this in our spare time," Abby shrugged.

"Because we need hobbies," Quinn said blandly.

"How many weddings have you organised?"

"None," they both said, then Abby snapped, "How many weddings have you organised?"

"One."

"Got anyone helping you?"

"No."

"So you need our help, and we're here to help, seems like a done deal to me," Quinn shrugged.

"Yeah, done deal," Abby said emphatically.

The three looked at each other, then James sighed, "Well, I could use the help. There is a lot to get done and we've got so little time."

"Okay, so where should we start?" Quinn asked.

"Wait, I'm curious," Abby frowned. "How did you know we were following you?"

"You've been following me since I left Ella at Day care. I saw you on the Metro, then at the deli and organic market. And it's hard to miss the two of you when you're wearing identical deerstalker hats, and those sun-glasses when it's six-degrees and cloudy out here."

* * *

><p>"It was kind of calming at the beginning seeing you pace."<p>

"Like seeing fish swimming in a tank."

"But you're still doing it and we're concerned. What's going on, Liv?"

Arms crossed over her chest, Oliva came to standstill and looked at Harrison and Huck waiting just inside the doorway to her office, their faces creased with identical frowns of worry.

"I'm trying to figure out how I can be this person: juggling my job, my new role as the President's wife and the mother of three children, possibly four."

Harrison angled a look at her. "Wait... are you saying... has the stork paid you a visit?"

Olivia and Huck stared at him in confusion, then Harrison said carefully, "You know, this…" He cradled an imaginary baby in his arms.

"Oh! No!" Olivia laughed. "No, the stork hasn't visited! We're not going there yet. I was talking about Peter, Jerry's friend. He'll be staying with us during the holidays." She perched on the edge of her desk. "I'm just worried that I won't be able to manage it all."

"Liv, you're the fixer. You've handled dictators, gangsters, murderers and government spies. You can handle a bunch of kids."

"And the President. He likes you handling him."

Olivia and Harrison looked at Huck, he stared back at them impassively, then Harrison said, "You need to step back, Liv. You said you were going to, but you've been doing more hours since you made that announcement. So take the day off. Take the week off. Actually take as much time off as you need. We'll handle things around here."

"Yeah. Go home, Liv."

"I just feel like I... can't."

"You can." Harrison went to get her coat and scarf, while Huck got her bag and her phone. Then they bundled her out of the office. "See it's easy, now put one foot in front of the other and go."

"What if—"

"We'll handle it," Harrison said.

"Yeah, I got my tools here."

"We don't need your tools."

"I'm prepared for the worst."

"Even if the worst happens, we're not going to need your tools."

"Okay, I'm leaving." Olivia smiled, shaking her head as she headed towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

"Hi."

"Miss me?"

"No."

"_No_?!"

"Not since I got my blow-up doll as a replacement for my real fiancée who has become a figment of my imagination."

"Okay, just for that, I'm re-thinking telling you about my surprise."

"What surprise?"

"I'd tell you, but since you've replaced me with a blow-up doll..."

"I could never replace you. You are irreplaceable. Now tell me."

"Mmm... no."

"Livvie...! I'm crazy about you. I miss you. I spend half my day imagining you naked, I did that this morning, in the middle of the cabinet meeting."

"_Half_ your day? What about the other half?"

"I imagine all the things I'll do to you the next time I see you naked, which will be summer, I know. Or spring, if I'm really lucky."

"Fitz! Stop trying to guilt me into quitting my job!"

"No. Now tell me about the surprise."

"Be at the Fort Dupont Ice Arena at three-thirty."

There was a silence, then he chuckled. "Was that an order or an invitation?"

"You tell me since you're the one issuing a lot of orders lately. I thought I'd return the favour – so you know how your minions feel."

"My blow-up doll doesn't mind me giving orders. She respects a man in command."

"Really? Then you better start dreaming about her too. Because it'll be winter, possibly 2020, before you see me naked."

"Ouch."

"Yep."

"So three-thirty at Fort Dupont ice rink, Ms Minion?"

"Winter 2035."

* * *

><p>Fitz was still grinning over the phone call as he shrugged on his coat, preparing to leave for his impromptu date with Olivia, when his security advisors barged into the Oval Office.<p>

"Sir, the Iranian President has sent word that he's willing to talk to you!"

"The Iranian President? The guy who has been avoiding me during his official visit here? The guy who even skipped the United Nations luncheon a few days ago so he wouldn't have to see me – that guy?"

"Yes, sir, that guy."

"Huh, guess those talks between John and the Foreign Minister really were constructive. So when's he coming over?"

"He, uh, wants you to call him. And, uh, he's on his way to the airport in New York."

Fitz gave a narrowed eyed stare until one of the advisors said diffidently, "Sir, the last time a United States President spoke to an Iranian leader was in 1979 – when President Jimmy Carter called Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi."

"I know. This is historic. I get that...Okay. Let's do this. And get Lauren in here. I need her to call Olivia."

* * *

><p>Olivia shifted in the seat, looking at her watch, waiting in the Secret Service vehicle that had arrived to pick up the kids from school. She then sat forward, seeing them walk out the school gates; Karen eagerly dragging on Jerry's hand, while he looked bored.<p>

The kids were halfway into the car before they saw her, then Karen yelled, "Mommy!" before scrambling onto Olivia's lap to give her a hug.

Laughing, Olivia hugged her back, then looked at Jerry.

The smile that had automatically lit up his face at seeing Olivia, had been wiped off by the time he took his seat beside her and asked with a quizzical frown, "Wait, who are you again?"

"Silly, this is Mom," Karen giggled, her arms wrapped around Olivia's neck.

"She feels like Mom," Jerry prodded Olivia's arm, then said, "Say 'aaah'?"

"Aaaah," Olivia obliged.

'And she sounds like Mom, but it's been days since we've actually seen her, so we can't really be sure it's Mom."

Olivia reached out to take his hand. "Jer, I'm sorry I've been working late the last few days, and I haven't seen you guys as much. But I'll do better, starting today. Promise," Olivia squeezed his hand and kissed Karen's cheek. "So forgive me?"

"Forgiven." Karen kissed her back. Only Jerry remained staring at her with narrow-eyed suspicion. "What's special about today?"

"Today is special, because I've booked a private session at the Fort Dupont ice rink and you have it all to yourselves for a couple of hours."

"I love ice-skating!" Karen cried gleefully, hugging Olivia again.

"Yeah, but Mom doesn't," Jerry smirked. "Wow. You really are trying to make it up to us, aren't you?"

"So are we okay?"

"Yeah," Jerry slid his arm around Olivia's shoulders. "If you throw in a couple of RibRitos, I'll be okay with you doing another couple of all-nighters at work."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I've filched the historic conversation President Barack Obama had with Iranian President Hassan Rouhani in September for Fitz. (BTW, it truly pains me to keep giving this stellar moments to a Republican President, but you know I keep thinking of Fitz as a closet Democrat. Not that any actual Democratic President has caught the world's imagination as much as Barack Obama in my living memory). Anyway, if you're interested in reading about the real-life conversation, see ****_ U.S. and Iran Agree to Speed Talks to Defuse Nuclear Issue_**** by Peter Baker, published in The New York Times on Sep 27, 2013.**

**Also the hourly rate was referenced from the article: _Jill Kelley Retains High Profile Crisis Manager, Despite Reportedly Being In Debt_ by Elizabeth Flock, in US News published Nov, 21, 2012. Apparently Judy Smith can charge between $300-$800 an hour for her services according to that article, I figured that it should be about $1000 now, with inflation factored in (yes, calculated at South Sudan's inflation rates which according to Wikipedia is 79%).**

**BTW, thank you for letting me bombard you with my love of all things Politic – heh, heh… I am stockpiling soap boxes as we speak!**

**Aaaand THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH for all your comments )))) *sniff* you guys are the best – and I would encourage every closet writer to break out on the Scandal FanFiction site. It will be a truly life-changing experience!**


	7. Media Spectre

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em>"...What she did is the trending topic this morning after Ms Olivia Pope, the President's Fiancee shut down the Fort Dupont Ice Arena in Washington DC yesterday for herself and the President's children. Eyewitnesses say the President's two oldest children Fitzgerald IV and Karen Grant were still in their school uniforms. Did they ditch school to go ice-skating with their soon-to-be Step Mom? The school and White House won't comment. But here's a picture of Ms Pope looking very chic in a grey wool cashmere cape coat, grey elbow length gloves, black designer pants and black dress shoes. Lovely, faultless attire for crisis management, but hardly suitable for an afternoon ice-skating..."<em>

_"...She closed the rink for two hours. Yes, that's right, Two whole hours, and those poor kiddies missed hockey practice because of it. I mean really, the whole rink?! The rental rules say groups of less than 15 people don't need private ice times and should use the public skating sessions. Maybe my eyes need testing – I don't see 15 people. I see three. Let me count that again – 1, 2, 3. Yep, I still got three. So two hours private time for three people. Well, it's one rule for them, and another for us, folks. That's all I can say..." _

_"...So now the issue is Ms Pope vs an ice rink. She rented the ice rink for herself and the President's kids for a couple of hours and that's caused a public meltdown. Hello, we're talking the President's kids. Those kids can't take a stroll in the park without Secret Service agents checking every jogger and dog walker as a possible threat. Now, I don't know about you but I'd rather they had the rink to themselves. I for one don't want my every clumsy move watched by a dozen Secret Service Agents with the right to shoot me if I trip and crash dive anywhere near those kids..."_

Olivia switched off the TV, and leaned over to press a light kiss on his rough cheek, trying not to disturb Fitz, but he stirred, cracking an eye open as her weight shifted off the bed.

"Why are you dressed?" he rasped, his sleepy gaze wondering over her chunky sweater, all the way down her jeans, to her suede boots.

"I'm taking the kids to school. And you need to sleep in. Cyrus said your daily briefing has been pushed back an hour."

"Don't need sleep, need you," Fitz groaned, holding out his hand to her.

Grinning she returned to the bed, shifting to lie over him on the covers, as his arms gathered her close.

She combed gentle fingers through his hair. "You need to go back to sleep you worked late last night, and you, um..._ celebrated._..until the early hours of the morning."

"Come back to bed. I'm still in the mood to celebrate." His lips locked with hers, softly, gently, sweetly.

"Can't...kids...school."

He smiled against her lips. "Stubborn..."

"Mm…" she drew back, warmth curling in her belly as he brushed back a stray curl that had escaped her pony tail..

"So you're serious about not going to work today?"

"Yep."

"And you're spending more time with me and the kids?"

"The kids, mostly. You've got your blow-up doll."

She gasped a laugh then shrieked a protest as he tickled her. "Fitz, don't! No!" She nearly fell off the bed in her rush to get away. Then straightening her sweater, she said pertly, "The kids will be late. I have to go."

"Give me a kiss."

"No, you lost your kissing privileges with that tickle attack."

Then she shrieked a laugh when he threw back the covers and chased after her as she ran across the room.

"Fitz!" She held him back, laughing, as he crowded her against the door; then said with mock sternness, "You're the leader of the free world."

He kissed her.

"... You can't run around naked."

He kissed her again, pressing into her.

She moaned softly, standing on tip-toe to accommodate him. "We can't do this now..." she whispered, stroking his face.

"I know..." He rested his forehead against hers. "The kids are waiting."

"Yes..." she kissed his chin. "Maybe... after..."

Then she shrieked again when he lifted her off her feet and hugged her.

* * *

><p>"Mom, what are you going to do today, if you're not going to work?" Karen asked, her hand tucked firmly in Olivia's, as they travelled with the Secret Service to school.<p>

"Dad's got plans for her," Jerry said with a smirk, then blushed when Olivia turned to him in shock.

"You were listening?"

"You guys weren't exactly quiet. I could hear you down the hall," Jerry muttered, shifting his gaze away.

"Except he was standing outside your door," Karen whispered loudly.

"Hey! I just wanted to make sure Mom remembered that she was taking us to school," Jerry insisted, looking at Karen.

"I didn't forget," Olivia murmured, her cheeks still hot.

"I know."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Olivia cleared her throat and said, "I'm going to meet James today, check on his plans for the wedding."

"Mom, I wanted to be there for that too," Karen pouted.

"I'll tell you all about it tonight, Baby K, and you can help me decide what to wear."

"Can I invite my friends?" Jerry asked, still a bit red around the ears.

"Peter is invited."

"He means can he bring his _girl_friend."

"I do not have a girlfriend," Jerry glared at Karen. "She's just a friend."

"A _special _friend."

"Baby K, have you got any special friends you'd like to invite?"

Karen shook her head.

"Yeah, you do. There's that kid you keep trying to avoid at recess," Jerry grinned.

"He is not_ my friend._ He's annoying. He pulls my hair in class, and he keeps giving me yukky chewing gum that's stuck together."

"Do you take it?"

"Yes, I don't want to hurt his feelings. But he's annoying, so maybe I should."

"Tell him you don't like chewing gum, the next he offers."

"Okay."

"So chewing gum boy doesn't need an invite," Olivia confirmed as Karen shook her head vehemently.

"Nor does anyone I know," Jerry muttered.

"Right, then it will just be us; my guys at work plus Cyrus and his family, since James is organising the wedding, and Tom."

Jerry looked surprised. "That's it? Mom, don't you want more people? Alice Roosevelt, President Theodore Roosevelt's oldest daughter, had one thousand guests."

"I think the Secret Service would like us to have much less than that."

* * *

><p>"In light of the fact that North Korea has just threatened all out war against the United States, it is imperative that we do not show fear," Sally said stridently, sitting on the couch across from Fitz in the Oval office.<p>

"Conciliation is not showing fear, Sally. It is avoiding a greater disaster. Fortunately, the Chinese government agrees with me. It is in all our best interests to avoid an escalation that will lead to a nuclear Armageddon."

"That heathen is not open to reason. He behaves like a child, throwing tantrums from his seat of power. There is a need for us to show him the might of our convictions, as we did with Iraq."

"Sally, in the 10 years since we invaded Iraq with battle cries of stability and democracy, we have lost nearly 4500 US military lives. US taxpayers have spent over $800 billion fighting a war that has displaced 1.24 million Iraqis within the country, and created an additional 1.6 million refugees. And let's not mention the fact that we don't even know the exact figure of civilian deaths which range between 112,00 to over 120,000. We don't need history to repeat itself."

"If that man shoots a nuclear warhead at us imagine the catastrophe it will cause our nation. We have 315 million people living in the United States, that's nearly 10 times the 33 million people living in Iraq. That means it will be 10 times worse if we sit back and wait for that man to carry out his threats."

"If we retaliate, imagine the devastation it will cause the 4.3 billion people living on the world's most populous continent. And not just for Asia but for us here in the Unites States. A nuclear war in the South East Asian region would release carbon aerosol particles that would cut our Soybean and Corn production by 10 per cent over a decade. The report I read was projecting the outcomes from an imaginary war between India and Pakistan, but it doesn't make it any less applicable in current circumstances, especially when it anticipates that China's wheat crop will halve in the first year after a nuclear war."

"Fitzgerald, you cannot govern this nation based on reports from armchair experts who have not stepped out of their elitist ivory towers in at least two decades."

"This report is by the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War and Physicians for Social Responsibility, people who try mend those we break. I do think they are worth listening to."

"So we are back to sitting and waiting for the Chinese government do the Lord's work with that demon child?"

"Yes."

"In time we will see how this regrettable course of action will pan out."

"Yes." Fitz sat forward, preparing to stand, but paused when Sally said brightly, "And how are the wedding plans coming along."

"Very well."

"Have you decided on the officiant for your wedding ceremony. I only ask as I may be able to assist, if you are having difficulty choosing a suitable minister because you and Olivia are of different denominations, are you not?"

"Olivia and I have decided on a civil ceremony."

Sally's eyes widened in shock. "A civil ceremony? Here in the White House? At the wedding of a Republican President?"

"I don't see a problem."

"I know you do not, and that is your problem Fitzgerald. You miss the nuances that have the potential to start as ripples and end as a Tsunami. A civil ceremony is opening the door to a pandemic legalising same-sex marriage in every state across this country."

Fitz spared a wry smile. "Sally, same-sex marriage is not that revolutionary a concept since Massachusetts made it legal in 2004. As of this month, same sex couples can marry in 16 states in this country, with Illinois coming on board in June. It's even legal here in the District of Columbia. So I really can't see a problem."

"Sixteen, possibly, 17 states and the District of Columbia do not add up to 50 states. And if you were to marry Olivia Pope in a civil ceremony that would sent a signal to the other 33 that the Federal Government supports that abomination."

When Fitz raised a brow, Sally said in exasperated tone. "You cannot be naive enough to think otherwise. I am surprised your wedding planner has not advised you of the repercussions, if she or he has any experience in the political sphere. Who is this person, if I may ask?'

"It is no secret, Sally. James Novak has volunteered to help."

"Is he famous? Where have I heard that name?"

"James was a White House correspondent and he's married to Cyrus Beene."

"That homosexual? Oh, now it becomes clear - you mean to use your marriage to smite at the very heart of our core beliefs in the Republican party! Ignoring our duty to uphold the sanctity and values of traditional American morals! And the sanctity and tradition of marriage between a man and a woman!"

After Sally had spat the last word at him, Fitz waited a couple of minutes before saying calmly, "I, a man, am marrying Olivia, a woman, in a civil ceremony not as a political statement but as a matter of choice. This is not America's marriage, this is mine and Olivia's. But beyond that if my marriage does encourage acceptance of the greater diversity among our people, all our people, then I welcome it."

With that Fitz got to his feet. "Thank you, Sally, this has been a most constructive discussion. We must do this again sometime."

"Oh believe me, we will!"

* * *

><p>Fitz was staring out the Oval Office windows with a grim jaw, when he heard the door open behind him, and Olivia entered with Teddy in her arms.<p>

"Hi," she smiled closing the door.

Instantly, he was making his way across the room, reaching out to lift Teddy in his arms as he bent low to kiss her fiercely; catching her stark stare of concern as he kissed Teddy's cheek.

But she didn't say a word while he settled Teddy on the rug and she lay out the toys she'd carried in a bag with of baby supplies.

It was only after Teddy was happily distracted by his toy truck, that Olivia looked at Fitz and murmured, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lying propped up on his elbow on the carpet, a pose mirrored by Olivia, Fitz reached across the space between them to tap her nose. "No, not right now."

She caught his hand. "Talk to me."

He rubbed his thumb over her skin, but she wouldn't be distracted. "Talk to me, Fitz."

He sighed. "Sally was not happy to hear that we're having a civil ceremony. She thinks it will open the door to a pandemic of same-sex marriage legislation across the country."

That made her smile. "Great!"

"Yeah, great," Fitz smiled wanly, "I'm just concerned about the push back from the few voters I have left on my side – after my stance on gun control."

She tightened her grip on his hand but her voice was soft as she asked, "Do you want to have a minister officiate our wedding?"

He shifted his gaze from Teddy to look up at her. "No." He moved closer, bringing her hand to his lips, then holding it against his heart. "I just... I don't know."

She looked at him, stroking gentle fingertips over his shirt which he found oddly soothing, then she said slowly, "We don't really know how people would react to the idea of our civil marriage. They probably won't react the same as Sally."

"We don't have time to conduct a poll."

"I'm not talking about a poll. I'm saying that we're going about this the wrong way. Our relationship has been in the media spotlight for months, and now we're trying to reverse the clock, and be discreet. But I think we need to start talking to people again. Get our story out there ourselves, not through the filter of Sally or the Right Wing commentators.

Fitz sat up, frowning. "You want all the crazies to come out of the woodwork?"

"It's time we faced the crazies."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I do occasionally remember that Scandal is set during the time of a Republican President (who shouldn't be credited with all the good things achieved by the actual Democrat currently in office). So here I'm pretending that the following didn't occur: On May 9, 2012, President Obama became the first sitting president to publicly declare support for same-sex legislation; On Sep 20, 2011, President Obama repealed the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy for gays and lesbians serving in the US Military.**

**The other stuff contributing to Fitz and Sally's conversation were stolen from : ****_What Australia owes Iraq 10 years after the war began_**** - Dr Benjamin Isakhan published in Crikey on Mar 25, 2013; ****_Iraq 10 years on: In numbers _****on BBC News Middle East, published Mar 20, 2013; ****_and India-Pakistan Nuclear War Would Kill 2 Billion People, End Civilization: Report _****by Palash Ghosh published in International Business Times on December 10 2013.**


	8. Web One Oh

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"You want the White House to go Web 2.0," Cyrus repeated looking from Olivia to Fitz. "What is that – some kind of Spiderman lingo for putting solar panels on the roof? Eating more greens? Adopt an Arachnid Day? What?"<p>

"The White House needs to enter the 21st century. We need to embrace social media in all its platforms. We need to hire a tech team and we need to do it now," Fitz explained.

Cyrus got to his feet and walked over to the Resolute Desk and pick up the half-filled glass and sniffed. "What is this - Vodka?"

"It's water, Cyrus," Fitz smiled wryly. "Besides this is Olivia's idea." He smiled at her, sitting beside him on the couch.

"Right," Cyrus walked back to Olivia, placing a hand on her forehead. "Hmm. no detectable temperature to indicate delirium…"

"I'm not delirious."

Cyrus dropped his hand and glared at her. "Are you crazy?! Right now we're in the middle of Fitz declaring war on the gun lobby, Wall Street and Christian fundamentalism. We have North Korea threatening a nuclear attack and we have your wedding. Now you want to start some kind of technological revolution? Do you realise this is only _January_!"

Fitz tickled Teddy's chin making the toddler gurgle happily. "Cy, you know the nuclear threat is just a scare tactic - North Korea is trying to prevent us from pushing through an extension of UN sanctions. And I'm not attacking Christian fundamentalism, that's Sally creating a mountain when there wasn't even a molehill."

"See, these messages aren't getting through to the people. That's why we need to get started as soon as possible. And we need James to help us," Olivia said.

"James? My husband James – who's already going through one mid-life crisis as a wedding planner? Now you want him to have another trying to be Steve Jobs or Bill Gates?"

"More like Mark Zuckerberg or David Karp." When Cryus looked at Olivia blankly, she shrugged, "James is a reporter. We need someone qualified to report on what's going on. He can submit content, and our job will be to find the people who can set up the platform."

"And you're okay with this?" Cyrus turned on Fitz who had been watching Olivia through the whole exchange with a faint smile on his lips, while Teddy chewed on his tie.

"It sounds like a genius plan. I'm happy for Olivia to run with it."

"Before we even tippy-toe towards this spider web, I think Olivia and I need to discuss a few issues," Cyrus stretched out an arm towards the door. "If you don't mind, sir," He told Fitz.

"I'm getting kicked out of my own office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay," Fitz sighed, looking at Teddy. "Looks like playtime is over, Teds."

He leaned over so he and Teddy could kiss Olivia, then whispered for Cyrus to hear, "Call me if you need to be rescued. We'll be in the Library." He grinned at an apoplectic Cyrus on his way out.

The door had barely closed before Cyrus exploded, "Have you lost your _mind_?! _James_?! _James!_ Have you forgotten that he found out about _Defiance_ and told David Rosen about it?! That he was going to spill his guts to a _Federal Grand Jury_?"

"I haven't forgotten, Cy, that's why I think he should be involved. He would be good at counteracting the attacks in the media with substantive facts, not spin."

"Facts! We don't want people knowing _facts_! We live by spin! We like spin! It's our job to spin! Someone who can lie about facts is what we need!"

"Don't be so hard on James. He used his better judgement at the Grand Jury; he didn't reveal what he knew. I'm sure he'll exercise that same judgement when he's working on our side."

Cyrus sat down, running his hands over his thinning hair. "I feel like I've entered a parallel universe where people use words I understand, without making any _sense_!"

"What isn't making sense? You know the media has been attacking Fitz since his State of the Union address; they've been changing his narrative to look like he's attacking our Constitutional rights. We need to give Fitz a platform, so his message reaches people in a way he can control. We need to do this, Cy. Actually we need to have done this yesterday."

"Olivia, I know you've been out there in the real world doing your own thing – calling the shots, getting things fixed – all in real-time. But this is the White House, we operate at a far more moderate pace. You may have forgotten that as you were barely here for more than a few months, from Inauguration to the first State of the Union address, but I can tell you this is going to take a lot of work, and it's going to take a lot of time."

"Cy, we need to step up our game and work faster. We can do it, Cy. I'm confident."

* * *

><p>"Sir, we have a problem."<p>

Fitz paused as one of his homeland security advisors stopped him in the passageway. "Another one? What is it this time?"

"The TMG Party is gathering momentum."

"The what party?"

"Sir, they are the pro-Republican Intenet bloggers who've been critical of your SOTU address on gun control. Now they've banded together to drum up support against you and your re-election campaign. They are calling themselves the Too Much Grant Party."

"Wow, I'm honoured."

"And they've added your stance on same-sex marriages to their list of grievances."

"My _stance_ on same-marriage...? I've never expressed my opinions in public on that topic."

"The rumour is that your wedding will greenlight marriage equality for gays and lesbians, eventually leading to a repeal of section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act."

"I'm marrying Olivia in a civil ceremony. How did we get from there to DOMA? Who's feeding them this nonsense?"

"Unofficial White House sources.

"Wait, let me guess unofficial sources connected to the Office of the Vice President."

"We can't say for sure, Sir."

"Dammit, I only spoke to that woman this morning!"

"Social Media is a tinderbox, sir, one spark can start a wildfire in a matter of seconds."

Fitz gritted his teeth, then forced a smile as Teddy touched his jaw with a look of concern.

Then the advisor added, with a worried frown. "What's of concern to us, is that the LGBT groups are jumping in to support you, and there's a potential that the tinderbox situation could hit the streets."

* * *

><p>Once Cyrus had left the Oval Office, unhappily accepting that Olivia wasn't going to budge on the James issue; she packed up Teddy's toddler bag and headed for the Library. Only to see that Fitz and Teddy had been waylaid by a new staffer who had brought his family for a White House visit.<p>

She was debating whether to join them, when Fitz called her over.

Pasting on a smile, Olivia approached, taking his outstretched hand and leaning in closer as Fitz introduced his 'fiancee'. Then on receiving genuine smiles from the group that included the staffer's parents, his wife and his children – she instinctively moved to give each of them a hug in greeting.

"It's so lovely to be back here again," the mother told Olivia, holding onto her hand. "I came here in May 1952 soon after it re-opened to the public after renovations. It was a pivotal moment in my life to be here in the house of the President and his family. And you are such a lovely family, you should open it to the public again."

"Actually, Fitz has been thinking of resuming the public tours..." Olivia's intended glance became fixed on him, once she caught the way he was smiling at her, his gaze soft.

"Yes," Fitz said huskily, never taking his eyes off Olivia. "We've had feedback that the public want the White House tours back and they are happy to go through extra security checks we've put in place after the shooting. So it's in the works. We haven't decided on a firm date yet."

Then one of the teenaged kids asked, "Can we take a group picture?"

"Of course," Fitz grinned, looking away; allowing Olivia take a breath.

There was good-natured laughter as they all took various group shots with different phones. Then Teddy grabbed hold of Olivia's ponytail, and started chewing on a strand of hair. When Fitz tried to swap her hair for his tie, Teddy puckered up and started to cry. Instantly, everyone gathered around to comfort him, which promptly made him bawl.

"Hey, little man, I'm sorry," Fitz groaned, wiping Teddy's tears. "Don't cry."

"It's okay. I've got him. We should get going anyway," Olivia took Teddy from Fitz. "Teddy has a playdate with Ella and we don't want to be late."

Then after hasty good-byes, she hurried away hoping the movement of walking would soothe Teddy, but he continued to bawl until Olivia dug out his truck from the toddler bag and gave it to him. Instantly the tears stopped as he grabbed the toy.

"Good thinking, Ninety-nine!" She heard Fitz call out and turned to see him grinning with relief. Then she laughed as Teddy shouted, "Dah!" and shook his truck, chortling merrily.

* * *

><p>"You want me to do Public Relations for the White House?" James curled his lip as if he had just caught a whiff of rotting fish.<p>

They were in the living room, with Ella and James in a play yard on the rug, throwing stuffed toys at each other.

"It's not PR."

At the sceptical lift of his brow, Olivia added, "Well, it's a little PR but if you're against it, then I'm sure we can find someone else to do that. You can do factual exposes on government policies."

"By government policies, you mean the ones spear-headed by Fitz?"

"Yes, that would be my preferred bias but you can be objective up to a point."

"To the point that I can expose the inaccuracy of any claims made by the government?"

"James, you know every employee should have the protection of his or her employer's whistle-blower policy."

"The White House doesn't have a whistle-blower policy. In fact it has legislation and policies to prevent whistle-blowing of any kind."

"Yes. I am aware of that," Olivia smiled at James, who gave her wry look.

Then he said thoughtfully, "You know what the best thing is about all this?"

"You will be working with your husband?"

"No! That's likely to turn me off the whole idea."

"You can take Ella to work and Teddy will have a playmate?"

"That's lovely, but that's not it."

"The White House staff benefits?"

"No, what's lovely about all this is that, I came and told you that I was having a career crisis and here you are trying to fix it. You know I think I might actually like you."

Olivia laughed, feeling her cheeks heat. She picked a few stray cookie crumbs off her jeans and placed them on her plate. "So you'll take the job?"

James nodded. "Because I know Cyrus will be dead against it."

That made her laugh. "I can't wait to see you two work together."

"Just make sure you're wearing a flak jacket and the kids are in the bunker. Now…" He patted her knee. "Let's talk about the plans you've avoiding – for your wedding."

"I haven't been avoiding talking about my wedding."

"Olivia, please – I am familiar with the symptoms of cold feet. Cyrus had a severe case of it leading up to, during and after our wedding."

"I love Fitz."

"I know you do. I can see that you do."

"I just don't love the idea of being First Lady."

"Didn't you factor that in when you said yes to the bling?" James indicated her engagement ring.

"Yes, but I didn't foresee that it would all happen so quickly."

There was another long moment of silence, then James said gently, "Do you want to postpone the wedding?"

"I couldn't. I wouldn't. It would break his heart."

James looked at her. "So we're doing this?"

"We're doing this."

"Good," He patted her hand again. "Then we haven't wasted time putting this together." He went off to collect a thick binder of clippings, fabric swatches, photographs and business cards.

"Wow, you've done a lot of work."

"I had help."

"You're paying people to help you?"

"No, they're volunteers."

"Wow. That's amazing."

"Yes, it's been a bundle of joy so far."

* * *

><p><em>"What he did is the trending topic this morning. According to Senior White House officials, the President yesterday expressed his support for marriage equality, a marked shift from entrenched Republican views on LGBT rights. This has concerned several key Republican supporters, including a group of social media bloggers, calling themselves the TMG Party - Too Much Grant Party. You guessed it they don't want President Grant in office for a second term..."<em>

_"Not a good day at the White House yesterday. First Mr President goes and sinks his re-election boat. That's right, the guy doesn't just rock the boat, he goes and ploughs a great big hole in the hull, with a proposal to repeal DOMA. And if that wasn't enough, the Fiancee, the lovely Ms Pope, makes America's baby, little Theodore Wallace Grant, cry. Don't believe me – here's the picture worth a thousand words – tells its own story, doesn't it? Ms Pope grabbing the little kiddie making him bawl his eyes out. I call it a disgrace! Has anyone called the Child Abuse Hotline?!..."_

_"Heaven forbid that another disenfranchised group gets even a hope of equality. Yes, there are some folk in this country who aren't sleeping nights worrying about minorities having the same rights they enjoy. Gotta love it – living here in the Land of the Free. Oh, and then there's the First Fiancee, here's the picture that's doing the rounds on other news sites. But here's the photo they aren't showing you –the little boy chewing happily on his truck, laughing in Olivia Pope's arms. Just remember that one picture doesn't always tell the whole story..."_

Fitz switched the TV off and looked down at Olivia who was fixing his tie. "I'm beginning to see merit in your idea of having a White House media platform."

She paused her hands on the knot, frowning. "Beginning?"

He flushed. "Wrong choice of word."

"No, right choice of word. You are beginning to see the merit now, because you were humouring me before."

"I didn't say that."

"So I'm right," she muttered, dropping her hands and pushing him away, but he caught her by the waist.

"Livvie, I know it's been tough, the idea of giving up your independence, taking a step back from your career. I just wanted you to have a project to be in charge, to distract you from your doubts."

She slid her hands up around his shoulders. "So you were humouring with good intentions - that's your defence?"

"If I say 'yes', do I get off with a slap on the wrist?"

"Hm..." Let me think about it."

Just then the door was thrust open and Jerry barged in.

"Jer, what did I tell you about knocking?" Fitz admonished.

Jerry paused, rolled his eyes and walked out, shutting the door after him. "Knock, knock," he called out.

"Who's there?" Fitz and Olivia answered.

Jerry cracked the door open. "Very funny, you two. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," Fitz said with exaggerated resignation.

"Hey, Dad. I'm here to help you. Well, Mom actually. You know those pictures they have of Teddy crying. The kid who took the pictures has sent the entire lot to me. I'm just letting you know that I'm posting them on my Facebook and Tumblr pages, and put a Twitter link so they can read what happened."

Olivia arched a brow at Fitz. "See?"

"I told you I've seen the light."

"The Light on what?" Jerry frowned at Fitz.

"Your Dad is realising the value of social media."

"For real? Dad? Wow."

"Hey, I can be cool." When his audience didn't respond, Fitz chuckled. "Come on, be nice."

"Yeah, well you know if you need help with the transition from the Obelisk to Online communication, let me know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can set up a Twitter account for you, Dad. It's only 140 characters max a post, so you should be able to manage that."

"Do that," Olivia grinned. "Fitz Grant, with the intro 'for the people'"

"I like that. Makes me sound really cool!"

* * *

><p>"There has been a sharp spike in incidents against LGBT members, Sir."<p>

Fitz took in the worried faces of his security advisors, and sighed. "Have the perpetrators been arrested?"

"A few.

"Those that have been caught."

"We are concerned that what's happening in Russia and Nigeria will manifest in the United States."

"This government will not be passing any anti-gay laws," Fitz refuted firmly.

"It's not the laws so much as the community attitude that gay-bashing is okay."

"Especially since the group that's been advocating anti-gay legislation around the world is based in the United States."

There was a sudden pin-dropping silence. Then Fitz said, "Go on."

The advisor who had spoken, cleared his throat and continued, "Sir, it's an organisation calling itself the Global Unity for Families. They've been lobbying governments to pass anti-gay legislation here and overseas. So far they've had more success overseas at a Federal level. They even lobbied against countries signing the 2008 United Nations Statement de-criminalising homosexuality worldwide. Now it looks like they're coordinating hate groups here, using the prospect of a repeal of DOMA as the catalyst."

Fitz groaned, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. "Why haven't I heard of this group?"

"Sir, the founder was a Reagan appointee, and he has a lot of supporters in the Republican Party."

* * *

><p>"If only there was a way I could get them declared as a Terrorist group."<p>

"So you can stop their fund-raising activities under United Nations resolution 1373? Kill the source that feeds the beast?"

"Yes," Fitz smiled at Olivia, as they walked arm in arm under the trees on the South Lawn.

"You'll have to expand the definition of terrorism to lobby groups who incite hatred through national and international legislation."

"You don't think I should?"

"Fitz, I think people will see this as another attack on their freedoms under the United States Constitution."

"Right now we have a conflict between the 1st and 14th Amendments – people's right to religious freedom and free speech versus their right to equal protection under the law within State jurisdiction. And we have States arguing that the 14th Amendment right of equal protection is limited to gender and race, not behaviour, in order to overturn Federal rulings that gay-marriage bans are unconstitutional. People's rights are under attack, Livvie, and it's not coming from me. "

"I know historians say that the 14th Amendment was included in the Constitution specifically to protect slaves in the Southern States from violence, but that didn't prevent the horrors from occurring. The laws are only as good as our ability to make sure justice is done. Putting this group on a Federal watch list that only a few people know about isn't going to be effective."

"So what do we do?"

"You have two options, Fitz – you can play it safe until the election. Then after you win a second term—"

"_If_ I win a second term."

"_When _you win a second term, you can push through all the radical reforms you want. But in the meantime, since you already have a lot on your plate. Bite off what you can chew. You've been accused of trying to repeal Section 3 of DOMA, canvass support for it. And in the short-term call out this anti-gay group. They are operating under the radar – bring them out, find ways to leak their donors, use shame as a tool."

Fitz stopped, grinning.

"What?"

"You are perfect."

Olivia smiled, "And just for that, I'll even propose a division of labour – you handle DOMA, and I'll handle the anti-gay group, find a way to publicise their activities."

"Livvie, I don't want the leaks traced back to Olivia Pope and Associates."

"Don't worry, they won't."

He bent low to kiss her, caressing her lips with his mouth. "You are perfect and very sexy."

She laughed, dragging on his arm to make him start walking again. "We are not going to do anything about that right now."

"Livvie…"

"No."

"Behind this tree trunk, no one can see."

Just then there were sounds of running feet, making them both turn swiftly. "Sir, you're wanted in the Situation Room," An agent said calmly, as an aide bent over trying to catch his breath.

"The Situation Room?"

"Yes, sir," The White House aide puffed. "North Korea has declared war on us, in response to a message sent from your Twitter account."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Helloooo, sorry I'm late! Actually, I think lateness is required with this story! My struggle is, yes, that I don't have protagonist – but I still don't regret killing Mellie. What I do regret is not being sufficiently prepared to write this story.**

**I've been reading this book called '_Becoming a Writer'_ by Dorothea Brande and she has noted (under the heading - Recapturing Innocence of The Eye) : '…_Don't plan to use the material at once, for you may get only the brittle, factual little items of the journalist if you do not wait for the unconscious mind to work its miracles of assimilation and accretion on them." (BTW the meaning of 'accretion' from the Free Diction – yes, I had to look it up – 'growth or increase by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter'._)**

**When I started _A Presidential Divorce_ – I had hated Mellie for a long time, so my subconscious had apparently germinated plots that I wasn't even aware of until I started writing – either that or Mellie had pissed off even my writing muses/angels/spirits and they too wanted her gone!**

**Anyway, existentialist spiritualism aside, I started writing this story without fully letting my subconscious absorb, collect and grow layers (like fungus!) of plot, so now I need to take time while writing to write (if that makes sense). I say this because, after I've posted the last 3 chapters, I realised there were things I wanted to change (to the point, I wanted to pull this whole story out and start over- BUT I've talked myself off that ledge!).**

**So now, I'm going to ruminate (like a cow chewing cud, yes) with each chapter. So THANK YOU again to the lovely readers who aren't completely turned off by this story but I think I'm turning the corner from despair to some kind of direction. AAAAnd THANK YOUUUU for GIVING me direction: specially the hint about the _14__th__ Amendment_ and _Loving vs Virginia – _pure gold for this chapter!**

**Other bits of reality (my take at least) that I've tried to incorporate into this pickle of a story: Web 2.0 is what President Obama used in his social media initiatives - you can read more about it on About dot com - web trends _How Barack Obama Is Using Web 2.0 to Run for President by_Daniel Nations; The TMG party is loosely based on the Tea (Taxed Enough Already) party - info from Wikipedia. The idea of Global Unity for Families came from the America blog article written by Becca Morn- _ Homophobia Inc. and America's newest export: Hate (Part 1 of 3), _published 10/11/2013.  
><strong>

**Oh yes, and I'm pretending that section 3 of DOMA hasn't been repealed. DOMA - the Defense of Marriage Act was passed into legislation by Bill Clinton in 1996 and section 3 was declared unconstitutional in 2013 (under President Obama). You can read more on that in Wikipedia and the Glaad website _Frequently Asked Questions: Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). _**


	9. Web Two Oh

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Dammit, Jerry! I told you to open a Twitter account, I didn't tell you to <em>reply <em>to any messages!"

"Tweets, Dad, they're called tweets. And I thought the guy was a crank. I didn't think he was the real President of North Korea."

"Supreme Leader of North Korea," Olivia murmured.

"Yeah, him. I wasn't going to reply but he said the United States was the sworn enemy of the North Korean people. I didn't want that guy saying shit like that on your Twitter feed. I told him to get a life."

"You told him to Fuck Off!"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to say that in front of Mom," Jerry cast an embarrassed glance at Olivia, then added defiantly.

"Jerry, Mom saw it. I saw it. Our intelligence staff saw it. From what they tell me – practically the entire world saw it!"

"Look, all I wanted to say was that we're not as bad as the dude running the country. I told him to Google the President of North Korea like I did. They say he fed his uncle to a bunch of dogs and that he's starving his people. I told him you wouldn't do shit like that, and not just because you don't have an uncle and people here get food stamps."

Fitz glared in outrage, as Jerry carried on valiantly, "That's when he sent me the link to that creepy Youtube video. I don't know what it said because it was written in Korean or something, but the background music is 'We are the World'. I know because I've got it on my Classics playlist. And I'm pretty sure the copy they're playing on that video has been pirated. Shouldn't you be concerned about that? I mean it's taxable revenue you're missing out on, Dad."

"Jerry, you called the North Korean leader an _asshole_ because of a _copyright violation_?!"

"No, I called him an asshole because he is an asshole. You should have seen the video. It's got this guy dreaming about blowing up Manhattan. It's 9/11 all over again. Only worse – there were bombs dropping everywhere. Karen would have been scared, if she'd seen it. But I knew he'd ripped it off the video game _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3._ That's a second copyright violation; so yeah, Dad, he is an asshole."

"Jerry, this isn't a joke! North Korea has declared war on us! Nuclear war!"

"Yeah, well he said he was going to do that anyway. But I told him we weren't scared. I looked in Wikipedia – North Korea has less than 10 nuclear warheads. We have 7,700. We can beat his ass easy."

Fitz gritted his jaw, then uttered an expletive and slammed out of Jerry's bedroom.

"Where's he going?"

"He's going to contact the DPRK government."

"Hey, I know what that means now – the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. But I still think it's easier to say North Korea."

"But what your Dad has to do is not easy. Your Dad has to apologise for something you did and explain that several hundred million lives are at risk because of a misunderstanding. And he's going to have to do the same, with the governments of South Korea, China, as well as 50 other countries in the region. Then he's going to have to contact the European Union, the NATO alliance, and the G8. And he's going to have to call the United Nations Secretary General and—"

"Okay, I get it, Mom. I screwed up."

"Yes, Jerry, you did. Nuclear war isn't a video game. It a gigantic fireball that kills people, destroys buildings, and changes the climate. And when you insult world leaders with access to weapons of mass destruction, they retaliate."

"Yeah, but they can't just go to war with us — the North Korean congress needs to vote on it, right? I mean that's what Congress here has to do, before we declare war on anyone."

"Jerry, there are different systems of Government. In some countries, only one person makes the rules. And that person decides when to pull the trigger and start a war."

"You mean people don't have to work at it and get a consensus, like they did over here with the Iraq invasion? They don't have to find bogus evidence to tie Saddam Hussein to 9/11 and tell a bunch of lies about Weapons of Mass Destruction. Just one guy has to get mad, that's it?"

"Yes.

"Wow, Mom, that's dangerous."

"Yes, Jerry it is. And you need to remember that when you communicate with the world at large. Most of the time you won't know whom you're talking to, and what they'll do after reading something you've said."

"I should apologise, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, but you probably should wait a couple of hours until your dad has calmed down."

* * *

><p>"Sir, the CIA has confirmed that North Korea has moved five medium-range Musudan missiles on to the country's East Coast. Considering the range of the missiles, which we estimate is between 2500 to 4000km, the likely targets appear to be our military bases in Guam."<p>

Fitz steepled his fingers and looked around the Situation Room at the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the US ambassador to the United Nations, his intelligence chiefs and Sally Langston.

"Have we managed to get through to the North Korean leader?"

"No, sir. But the North Korean government has sent a communication to all foreign embassies in Pyongyang to evacuate their staff as, and I quote, 'their safety couldn't be guaranteed in the event of a conflict'."

"What about the North Korean diplomatic mission in New York?"

"They're not answering the phone, sir. Or the gate."

"What about the Chinese government? Are they having better luck?"

"The Chinese government have expressed their dissatisfaction with us and the North Koreans."

Another official added, "But we have the British and Swedish ambassadors attempting to make a diplomatic contact on our behalf."

Fitz sighed. "Right, so the message for tonight's press conference is that we are using every initiative to contain this situation."

"I wouldn't be too conciliatory, Fitzgerald," Sally said ponderously. "They did after all threaten a nuclear strike before your son sent his ill-advised messages."

"Yes, but it's those messages that have brought us to the brink of war."

"Well, let's hope that your son does not send any further inflammatory communications. The last thing we need is for the Syria and Iran to join North Korea in this horrific situation," Sally intoned, to which an intelligence officer quickly added, "We've deleted the messages, sir, and deactivated your account."

Fitz shook his head. "No, re-activate it. See if the North Koreans will at least try to contact us through that channel."

* * *

><p>"Mom, the guy replied again!"<p>

Jerry burst into Karen's room, startling Olivia and Karen who had been going through the wedding folder, borrowed from James.

"What? You wrote to him, after your Dad told you not to?!" Olivia frowned at him.

"Mom, it's okay I used my Twitter account, not Dad's. And I wanted to apologise. I told him I was sorry, that I shouldn't have used Dad's account to insult him. I didn't think he'd respond, but he has –what should I do?"

"What did he say?" Karen tilted her head in query.

"He wants to know how old I am?" Jerry said as he squeezed in between Olivia and Karen on the bed, the wedding folder hastily pushed aside.

"It's okay to tell him that you're only 14 years old." Olivia said, watching Jerry type.

"Now he wants to know if Dad beat me for what I did. Should I tell him Dad has?"

"No!" Olivia scolded. "Tell him you've been grounded."

"He wants to know what 'grounded' means."

"Say it's when you can't leave the house."

"He wants to know if I'm being kept in a CIA torture cell in the White House basement. Wow, do we have those here?"

"No, Jerry, we don't. Tell him you have to stay in your room. It's got a bed, a desk and books for you to read."

"He wants to know if I'll get food and water while I am imprisoned in my room."

"Say, yes. And that you can go to school."

"Really? Can't I be grounded from school too, Mom?"

"Jerry."

"All right, all right. I can go to school. And I can eat and drink." Jerry read while typing, then paused. "He wants to know if I'll get McDonalds?"

"Say the punishment includes a ban on McDonalds."

"He wants to know what's for dinner"

"We're having spaghetti and meatballs – my favourite," Karen smiled.

"It's not my favourite, I'll tell him we're having yukky spaghetti-"

"No, don't say that," Olivia stopped him. "You'll hurt chef's feelings if he ever saw this Tweet."

"Jeez, Mom, you know I hate gunky sauce on my spaghett!"

When Olivia just looked at him, Jerry demanded, "You want me to lie?... Okay, okay, we're having _yummy_ spaghetti and meatballs."

"Ask him what he's having for dinner?' Karen asked.

"No, don't ask him that. Ask him what the national dish of North Korea is."

"Why can't I ask him what he's having for dinner?" Jerry frowned.

"Remember those stories you read about his people starving – well, there are also stories that the top guy is living in luxury. We don't want to look like we're being judgemental or worse spying. So ask him about the national dish of North Korea."

"Okay," Jerry typed it in, then said after a pause. "He says it's Kimchi – pickled cabbage. He wants to know if I've had it. I'll tell him no, because it sounds gross."

"Jerry, remember, you're being diplomatic, so say you haven't but you'll try it out."

"Mom, I'm not having pickled cabbage."

"Jerry, you made this guy mad enough to declare nuclear warfare on us, eating pickled cabbage is the least you can do."

"Mom, you have to let that war thing go already," Jerry muttered as he typed. Then waited and read out after a pause. "He wants to know if I know Michael Jordan? I wish. I'll tell him 'no'." But before he could type that, Olivia interrupted.

"Wait, ask him why?"

"He says he's a fan. He says he has a basketball signed by Michael Jordan that was given as a gift by Madeline Albright."

"Who's that?" Karen looked over at Olivia.

"She was a Secretary of State when Bill Clinton was President."

"He says he's seen all Michael's games, and would really like to talk to him."

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, while Fitz was in the middle of his Live Media Conference, Olivia and Jerry were called into the Oval Office to face a grim-faced Sally Langston and Cyrus Beene.<p>

"Young man, I don't believe you understand the gravity of your actions," Sally looked at Jerry with pitying sternness. "I cannot understand why your father didn't counsel you on the error of your ways and forbid you from indulging in this nonsense after the last catastrophic outcome,"

"Didn't your Dad tell you not to tweet," Cyrus bit out, glaring at Jerry.

"Dad told me not to use his Twitter account. I didn't. I used my own account."

"You wrote to the man again, after you all of us into so much trouble the first time?"

"I wanted to apologise."

"And he did so under my supervision," Olivia said, mildly.

Sally turned on her at once. "_Your_ supervision?! My dear Ms Pope, you cannot possibly consider yourself to be an expert on matters of international security."

"It wasn't Mom's fault. The guy wrote me back. It would have been rude if I didn't respond, so I asked Mom to help me."

"You didn't want to be rude, so you went and created a situation that's deadly. Yes, that makes so much sense to me," Cyrus muttered, wearily.

Sally shook her head. "I could not believe my eyes when my staff showed me the messages. Right there for the entire world to see. This is not how we correspond at the highest level of government, Ms Pope. We have protocols. We have advisors. We have secrecy."

"We don't put our message out on Twitter, so the world can read it," growled Cyrus. 'We aren't WikiLeaks. We _prosecute_ people who put Classified Information out in the public domain. Do you even know how much of an embarrassment you've caused this administration?" He glared at Jerry.

"Yeah, I gained like 2 million followers in five seconds. That was cool," Jerry grinned.

As Cyrus threw his hands up and sat down, Sally said with biting diction. "Listen, young man, this is not _cool_. What you did was dangerous. We could be facing World War III as the sole result of your actions."

"But we aren't. The Korean dude really likes Michael Jordan. He wouldn't destroy Michael's home."

'And that's the other issue. Getting an American sporting icon to speak to the leader of a country in our Axis of Evil? What were you thinking?" Cyrus looked at Olivia.

"We can't have civilians making unilateral decisions on matters of this magnitude," Sally inserted with patronising patience. "We have cut all diplomatic ties with North Korea since they began nuclear testing in violation of the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. We use Sweden as the Protecting Power for consulate matters with North Korea, not Michael Jordan."

"Neither Jerry nor Michael ever claimed they were speaking on behalf of this Administration," Olivia snapped. "The North Korean leader responded to Jerry's tweet from his personal account. He is well within his rights to respond without asking for security clearance. When the North Korean leader mentioned Michael, I saw an opportunity to diffuse the situation and I seized it. And Michael was only too willing to help. Besides, they only talked about his game scores and plays. No one told the North Koreans where we hide our weapons. "

"Don't be facetious, Ms Pope," Sally snapped with equal ferocity. "It was reckless of you to encourage two civilians to talk to a world leader who has threatened military strikes against us; using a public, uncensored platform. You're playing in the big leagues now, Ms Pope. You are no longer dealing with tax-dodging mayors, drunken sports stars or naive interns. The decisions we make here have a global impact."

Then the conversation stopped as the door opened and Fitz walked in. He frowned as his gaze focused on Jerry and Olivia.

"What's going on here?"

"Ms Pope—"

"My fiancee."

"Has escalated the ongoing crisis, with added assistance from your son."

Sally then proceeded to tell Fitz about the 'crisis', adding, "We are taking the trouble to advise Ms Pope of the consequences of her actions. She needs to be aware that she cannot interfere with operations best left to an Administration of elected officials. These matters are not in any way similar to the usual garden-variety white-collar criminals she has as her clients."

Just then an intelligence expert thrust his head through the door and blurted, "Sir, we have word that the North Koreans are pulling their missiles away from the East Coast. And uh, the Supreme Leader has issued a formal invitation for Michael Jordan to visit the country, with your son."

"I see," Fitz said, "Thank you. Tell the guys in the Situation Room, that I'll be joining them in a second."

"Yes, sir."

As the intelligence officer departed, an uncomfortable silence permeated the room. Sally pursed her lips, straightening her jacket while Cyrus glanced at the carpet, the far wall and the ceiling.

Then Olivia got to her feet. "Now that a catastrophic nuclear situation has been averted, I believe this discussion is over. Come on, Jer, we're leaving." She held out her hand to Jerry, who grasped it immediately.

Then Fitz interrupted. "Wait. I believe an apology is due from Sally and Cyrus."

"With all due respect, Fitzgerald, she's a civilian who got lucky," Sally sniffed.

"She can't take it on herself to do this again," Cyrus muttered.

Olivia looked at him. "I can assure you, I won't."

"An apology," Fitz repeated, and waited.

* * *

><p>Olivia was pacing in the Treaty Room with Jerry and Karen sitting on the couch watching her, when Fitz entered.<p>

"Daddy," Karen ran over and hugged him.

"Hey, pumpkin," Fitz hoisted her up. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Is Jerry going to prison?"

"No, Jerry is not going to prison." Fitz smiled wryly.

Jerry angled a look from the corner of his eye. "How long am I grounded for this time?"

"You're not grounded."

"I'm not?!" Jerry's eyes widened.

"No, and I'd take myself off to bed if I were you, before I change my mind. Both of you," He gave Karen a kiss on the cheek and set her down on her feet, watching her run to Olivia and give her hug. Followed by Jerry.

"Thanks, Mom." He hugged her tight. "I promise I won't do anything like this again."

"We'll see," Olivia chuckled, hugging him back, which made Fitz smile.

Then he grinned, watching Jerry sidle past and reached out to haul him into a hug, muttering, "No more Tweeting tonight."

"Got it," Jerry mumbled. "And I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Yeah, I know."

When he let go, Jerry was gone in a trice.

"Hi." Fitz faced Olivia.

"Hi." She smiled at him.

"Are we good?"

"We're good."

He sighed, coming towards her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. "You were brilliant."

"So was Jerry… Are you going to send him to North Korea?"

"I'm considering it. Maybe for a couple of decades. What do you think?"

Olivia snuffled a laugh. "I think you should talk to him in the morning. Explain everything that went down after the Tweet, and explain the limits of what he can and cannot Tweet as the son of the President of the United States."

He chuckled softly. "Did I mention, you are brilliant?" He kissed her softly.

"Maybe."

"So why were you pacing?"

She drew back to look at him. "I'm just trying to come to terms with my limitations here; my _imposed_ limitations. I'm so used to taking charge of situations, that I have to remember I'm not in charge anymore."

"Livvie, you saved us from the brink of war."

"By pure luck."

"Said those who don't know you better." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Are you still marrying me?"

She nodded. "Yes, I told James I'm going to look for a dress tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I've done a Scandalous take on a real life situation – well, it was inspired by 'true events' as reported in the media (heh, heh). **

**Yes, there really is a Youtube video****_- Destroy New York: North Korea's creepy new propaganda video_**** written by Peter Weber on The Week on Feb 6, 2013. What I loved about this is that the copyright lawyers are taking action about this video, ahead of everyone else NOT concerned about the war threat.**

**The basketball topic was inspired by this article - ****_Kim Jong Eun inherited an eccentric obsession with basketball from father Kim Jong Il_**** - written by Max Fisher in The Washington Post on Mar 1, 2013. And it's true the North Koreans leaders are HUGE fans of Michael Jordan, but they got Dennis Rodman instead - ****_Rodman's North Korea Trips Signal Basketball Push by Leader Kim_****- by Mason Levinson published in Bloomberg Business Week on Jan 13, 2014**

**And the whole North Korean – US nuclear war situation was blown all out of proportion in this story (than in real life) and was inspired by the following: ****_The Cuban Missile Crisis, October 1962_**** from the US Department of State, Office of the Historian: Milestones 1961–1968 (which says that Russia and US almost went to war over 'miscommunication'; resulting in a 'hotline' being set up between The Kremlin and The White House); ****_North Korea: Foreign embassy staff may not be safe if there's war_**** written by Ian Johnston and Becky Bratu, NBC News, updated 5 April 2013; and info on missile ranges were swiped from this article ****_Devil in the Dark – North Korean Missiles Threatening Nuclear Strike on American Territories and Allied Holdings in the Pacific_**** - by Joe Calandra Jr, published on Liberty News on April 11, 2013**


	10. Let the Games Begin

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em>"The White House isn't talking about the Nuclear War that Never Happened, thanks to a sporting legend and the President's son. The official line is that a 'regrettable misunderstanding' was 'contained' after sustained diplomatic efforts by the US State Department, Chinese Authorities, British and Swedish consular staff. We have heard from White House sources, who did not want to be named, that the unorthodox approach to 'a delicate diplomatic situation' was not welcomed by senior officials in the Grant Administration. They were even less impressed that the initiative came from the President's fiancée, Ms Olivia Pope. Should the DC Fixer be let loose on International Relations? White House officials believe not..." <em>

"_The Tweet-heads are still talking about it: the tweets that saved us from nuclear annihilation. Who knew that Mr Asian Bad Guy, who by the way hates our guts, loves basketball and Michael Jordan? Yeah, and we have the President's son, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth, to thank for that little insight. I've gotta say and it's not often that you're going to hear me say this, but praise God and Hallelujah for the trifecta of Basketball, Michael Jordan and Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth..." _

_"So everyone's talking about how we nearly got nuked. Nobody's talking about who prevented it. No, I'm not talking about the President's son, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth or NBA Megastar Michael Jordan. I'm talking about Ms Olivia Pope, the DC fixer who fixed an international crisis. Correction: there are folks talking about it in Capitol Hill, the way you would talk about an escaped felon or how your uncle took his teeth out in front of your new boyfriend at Christmas dinner. Yeah, a lot of DC's top movers and shakers are unhappy they never got to move or shake their thang. Now I don't speak for each and everyone of you out there, or even this network, but as someone who is alive this morning to discuss the issue, I've gotta say 'thank you, Ms Pope!'..."_

Hollis muted the TV on his private jet and grinned at Sally. "Well, now, it looks like Ms Olivia Pope has cooked your goose again, Sally. Didn't I tell you that gal is hard to beat."

"Oh, I don't mind losing a few battles when my focus is on winning the war."

"Now that wouldn't be the Nuclear war, now would it?"

"Ms Pope's connections aren't going to save her from every situation, Hollis."

"Oooh," Hollis chortled, "You've got me intrigued. What's next on the menu of your own personal cornucopia of hell?"

Sally raised a brow. "Really, Hollis, does your mind never stray far from your stomach?"

He gave a beatific smile. "Should I be worried about that judge-thee-as-ye-shall-not-me tone of yours; will you put a knife to my throat because I'm a glutton?"

"Do not mangle the Lord's word. And it is you who must put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony, not I."

"Then I've got nothing to worry about, for the only gotdamn thing I'll be putting my knife to is a Texas-sized steak, medium rare."

* * *

><p>"Now onto the matter of Olivia's staff – she's going to need some," Cyrus said looking at Fitz helpfully. "How many people do you think she'll need to keep herself busy as the First Lady?"<p>

Fitz frowned in consideration. "I don't know. We haven't discussed it."

"You need to discuss it, sir. The sooner the better. These things shouldn't be left to the last minute." He paused to take out a sheet of paper from the folder in his hands. "Let's see, I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of people that she will need. This is merely a guide and a rough approximation, of course but we have a chief of staff, at least two deputy chiefs of staff, a communications direction, a deputy communications director, a press secretary, a director of policy and projects, a deputy director of policy and projects, a director of scheduling and advance, a deputy director for scheduling and events, a special assistant for scheduling and travel, legal counsel, and three social secretaries. Have I left anyone out..." Cyrus looked at his list. "Hmm, no I think that's it – 15 key staff, not counting ancillary staff and Olivia's full-time style team of a stylist, a personal shopper, a hair stylist, a make-up artist and a personal trainer."

Fitz who'd been looking at Cyrus with his chin propped in his hand, sat back in his chair. "Give me the list, I'll get Livvie to have a look."

"She would need to get this back to me pronto as I would need to start the selection process. I want to have everything ready for her to hit the ground running. I've also got staff into to clear out the last of Mellie's things from the East Wing. They will be put in storage along with the other files and folders we got from Blair House."

"I'd like Olivia to have an office in the West Wing."

Cyrus gaped. "In the West Wing?"

"Don't look so surprised. Hilary Clinton and Edith Roosevelt had their office in the West Wing."

"That may be, sir, but... there's no room for Olivia and all her staff in the West Wing."

"Her staff can use the East Wing. And Olivia can have Sally's office. Sally already has one office suite in the Eisenhower Building, which is only five minutes away. She doesn't need a second at the White House."

"Sally's office, you say?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no problem at all."

* * *

><p>"So you're here to check up on us? See if we haven't torched the place?" Harrison asked, trailing behind Olivia as she walked along the corridor, carrying Teddy.<p>

There were two agents waiting by the elevator, while two others were standing in the conference room, after having checked the offices, the kitchen and the restrooms.

"No! I was going to see James Novak, and thought I'd stop by on my way."

"Liv, when we heard James Novak was getting involved in your wedding plans, we checked the guy out, right down to where he lives and how many socks he has in his sock drawer."

"You checked him out?" Olivia paused, looking over her shoulder at Harrison.

"Yeah," He reached her side, reaching up to tickle Teddy's cheek. "We've got your back. You know that."

Olivia gave a faint smile, which widened when she came to her office. "It looks the same. I wondered if this space was being used for storage."

"Liv, you're still the boss. We plan on keeping this room exactly the way it is, to reassure our clients that we haven't gone rogue on you. Most people think we've got top level security clearance, now that you're in with the Prez. And so far that assumption has been working for us."

Olivia walked behind her desk, deftly avoiding the orchid that Teddy tried to grab. "I miss this," she admitted finally, facing Harrison. "I miss being in charge, being at the centre of an ongoing crisis. Now I'm on the outside looking in, and they don't want me looking in, at the White House."

"Liv, even from being on the outside, you're kicking their ass. You can do this. I know you can, you're good at taking charge; being the boss. You did that even when we were kids, but it was okay because you watched out for me too. Like you were my big sister. And you know you could have been, if my dad had married your mom, liked they planned."

"But then Rowan came along, with his fancy talk, naked ambition and polished shoes. I think my Mom would have been so much happier with your Dad," Olivia said softly, resting her cheek on Teddy's curly head.

"But you probably wouldn't have been_ the_ Olivia Pope, and my ass would still be in jail."

Olivia chuckled. "So you guys are managing okay?"

Harrison gave her a considering look, then said slowly, "I wouldn't say okay, but we're managing. We miss you, yeah. But we know you've got a lot on your plate, becoming the New Missus at the White House and all; handling dictators and nuclear wars."

Olivia smiled again. "Where's Huck?"

"He's checking your apartment." There was a pause, as neither made a move, then Harrison asked, "You want coffee? I can make coffee, and something else for the kid, unless you're happy to let him keep chewing on your hair?"

She laughed, distracting Teddy with the orchid so she could reclaim her hair. "The little man has milk, water and fruit juice in the bag, but yeah, I'd love a coffee and you can update me on what's been happening around here..."

* * *

><p>Olivia didn't pick up the phone. Fitz knitted his brow in concern, and had disconnected the call, intending to call the Secret Service, when she called back.<p>

"Bad time?" He asked.

"No, no," Olivia said breathlessly. "I was just in the middle of changing Teddy's diaper when you called."

"Oh. Nasty."

"You can say that again. Phew," Olivia groaned. "Even the agents are standing back on this one."

Fitz chuckled. "I told you to take one of the nurses with you."

"I want to do this. It's good training."

There was a pause, then he said huskily. "Are you saying what I think you're saying."

"Fitz, I'm not pregnant," she mumbled into the phone, adding quickly, "But we could be... some day...in the very _near _future."

"So when do we start trying? Tonight?"

"I was thinking Valentine's Day, so it doesn't feel like a shotgun wedding."

He grinned. "Hmm..."

She started to laugh. "Stop, you're making me blush! And I have to go. Or we'll be late, and James won't be happy."

"But you left hours ago."

"I, um, took a detour, you know just to check on my guys see how they're doing. Nothing serious."

There was a long tense silence. Then he said abruptly, "I'm kicking Sally out of her office."

"_What_? Why?"

"So you can move in. I don't want you half a world away in the East Wing."

"Fitz, I can walk from the East Wing. It's not a big deal. You shouldn't kick her out."

"She's always had her sights on moving into the Oval office. Now she's getting impatient. I don't like it."

"I know, but you can't cut all your strategic alliances. Fitz, you need her."

"You don't think I have the numbers to make it on my own? You think another backroom deal will have to be done to get me back in office?"

"Fitz, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that in the past you would have been less...I don't know... alpha male about all this."

"You mean you prefer me as the guy who felt crushed under Big Jerry's thumb. The one who let you set the agenda on our relationship, the guy I was before I got shot?

"No! I'm not saying that! I love you! The old you, the new you, all of you!" She took an audible breath. "But you can't banish all the bad guys, not yet. It's too early in the game."

He smiled at that. "Are we playing chess?"

"Only if the chess pieces come with knives already stuck in their backs."

He smiled. "I love you."

"Ditto."

He laughed. "I'm tempted to say something else, now that I know you've got an audience."

She snuffled a laugh. "Do you have to work late again tonight?"

"Why?"

"I want to go on a date. Just the two of us."

He sat up. "Yeah? Let me organise it."

"No,_ I'm_ organising it."

"Okay, Boss."

"Oh, I like hearing you say that," she teased.

* * *

><p>Minutes after he'd ended his call with Olivia, the phone on his desk rang.<p>

"Fitzgerald! I will not be evicted from my office in The White House! I cannot believe you have taken it on yourself to be so presumptuous! That is my office, Fitzgerald! Mine! I will not vacate my presence so you can indulge in your shenanigans with your little—!" Sally's paused abruptly, and Fitz immediately pictured the words crowding against pursed lip, ready to burst from her cheeks.

"My little what...?" He prompted.

"Your fiancée! I am the Vice President, I was elected Vice President! Olivia Pope was not!"

"You still have that title, Sally. No one is taking that away from you."

"I am not talking about _my title_! I am talking about my office! The outrage of having my staff questioned by none other than Cyrus Beene as to why it is necessary for me to have two offices! I will not have my necessities questioned by that man!

"Because he is a homosexual?"

"Do not be facetious, Fitzgerald! Are you saying that presumptuous question was not made at your directive?"

"Now Sally, much as you'd like to see Cyrus as Satan's right hand man, do I need to remind you that Cyrus is the Chief of Staff? And since he has raised the question, I am curious as to why you do need two offices. Most of your team works in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which is just across the road. Wouldn't it make sense for you to be closer to them?"

"_Sense_?! This has nothing to do with _sense_ and everything to do with pettiness! But I will not be brought to heel by it!"

"Sally, I am not running a puppy school, and I wouldn't demean your status in the Grant Administration by bringing you to heel. Now if we're done discussing your hypothetical move out of the White House—"

"_Hypothetical_?" Sally cut in, icily.

"Yes, Sally, because Olivia will have her office in the East Wing. You really should stop vicious rumours from ruffling your feathers."

* * *

><p>Olivia did a last minute check of her apartment. The lights were low, the candles were lit, the food was warming in the kitchen and Frank Sinatra was playing on the music system. Pleased, she opened the door and drank in the sight of Fitz in a dark coat, open to reveal a charcoal sweater and black jeans.<p>

His gaze swept over her cream cashmere sweater, satin lounge pants and bare feet.

"I hoped you'd be naked," he said huskily.

She shook her head with a smile, and reached for his hand to tug him inside. Then she glanced at the agents waiting, "Are those chairs, Okay?" she waved towards the chairs she'd placed in the foyer.

"Yes, ma'am, but we'll be standing."

"Fine," she smiled, "Your regular take-out place will be delivering your meals in about ten minutes. You'll know the delivery guy."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"What did you order for us?" Fitz asked, sliding his arms around her waist, once the door closed behind them.

"I didn't order for us."

"You cooked?" He drew back frowning.

"No!" She swiped his chest. "I had food specially delivered from the White House."

"The White House?" He raised a brow

"Yep. The Secret Service wouldn't approve a delivery of any other kind at such short notice. They want to make sure that only agent-approved junk goes into your fancy Presidential stomach."

He laughed, sliding a hand under her sweater, only to pause when he touched bare skin. Then his eyes grew smoky as he caressed the smooth expanse of her back.

"Let's forget about food," he whispered, drawing her impossibly close, so she couldn't mistake his meaning.

She feathered kisses along his roughening jaw, and whispered, "We can't forget about food, I've been given strict instructions on when and how to serve it."

He smoothed his palm low over her hip, pressing her to him. She moaned biting his neck gently, "Fitz... I've got Chanterelle Mushroom Soup with goat's cheese fritters for entree."

He groaned. "They sent you my favourites, didn't they?"

"Yes." She smiled.

He helped her plate up in the kitchen. They took their time, making a mess and licking each other's fingers, which frequently led to kissing and caressing and lots of soft laughter.

Some dishes, made it out of the kitchen, others didn't. They fed each other, sometimes with her sitting on his lap at the dining table, other times with her on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands caressing her bare thighs.

The food was orgasmic, and so was she lying spread out on the table, letting him feast on her.

They danced whenever the mood took them, with Fitz singing softly in her ear, as she smoothed her hands over him, revelling in the freedom of touch and his warm skin, rough chest and solid muscles.

"You're so handsome," she whispered. "It's a good thing you have so many other faults, to balance it out."

"Ah, a dagger straight to the heart."

She snuffled a laugh, laying her head on his chest. "You know I could never leave you."

He stilled against her, for a moment it felt as if he'd stopped breathing but his heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek. She drew back to look at him, and found his gaze solemn and sad. "You did leave me, Livvie. More than once."

"I left because I loved you. And you were always there with me, with my every step, my every breath; making it impossible for me to move on and forget you, forget us."

"It's worse knowing that you can leave, and that it would be for the best of intentions."

"Fitz." She lifted her hands to cup his face. "You're everything I never dreamed. But now that I have experienced the reality, you've ruined me. I'm ruined for anyone else but you," She smiled.

He lowered his head until their foreheads touched. "Just as I've been ruined by an Olivia-shaped takeover of my heart."

"Wow, sounds bad," she teased, sliding her arms around his waist. "We need to find a cure for that."

"I don't want a cure," he muttered, lowering his mouth to her lips, kissing her softly at first, tenderly, then with abandon that had them collapsing onto the nearest couch.

They danced again, completely naked finishing off the last of the wine, then had their dessert of chocolate soufflés in the bath.

"I like the idea of this place being our little love nest," he murmured, when they were snuggled up in bed.

"I'm thinking of renting it out."

"What can I do to change your mind?" He whispered, nuzzling her ear.

"I'm renting, not selling."

"Cold feet, but not running away," he kissed her shoulder.

"I'm not running away," she said softly, looking at him steadily.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Tonight's been the best date night I've had. We should do this again. On a regular basis."

"Once a month when you're not dealing with dictators?"

He laughed softly. "We should eat out at some of the local establishments, as a couple and as a family. But we need to give them two to three weeks notice, so the Secret Service can check out the staff, secure the restaurant and watch the cooks while the meals are being prepared."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Okay, I get it, I'll keep this place. Just for us."

He cupped her face, smiling as he kissed her.

* * *

><p>"Dammit! He told me he wanted her out! Now she thinks it was all my idea!" Cyrus raged as he paced in front of the gas fire.<p>

"Did you try and talk him out of it?" James asked patiently, checking the menu options that the White House executive chef had emailed, for the wedding reception.

"No, I did not because I want that woman out! She's a smarmy, conniving, judgemental harpy! I want the scourge of her gone forever from the White House, but nooooo, she's more firmly entrenched than ever, and it's all her fault!"

"Whose fault?" James looked up from his laptop, confused.

"Olivia's! If she keeps playing nice we'll never be rid of that dragon in our dungeon!"

* * *

><p>"The humiliation of it all! Involving me in their petty, juvenile games! I told him I would not be involved in such nonsense! To think he's resorting to these flippant acts of self-indulgence at a time when our country's future is being threatened on so many fronts!" Sally rubbed night cream on her face with vigorous hands, then turned from her reflection in the mirror to glare at her husband.<p>

"Daniel Douglas, are you even listening to me?"

Daniel Douglas Langston looked up from his E-reader. "Of course, my dear, 'the country's future is being threatened on many fronts'," he repeated glibly, with a faint smile.

Sally turned back to the mirror, swiping up tissues from the box on her dresser, to clean the excess cream from her hands. "I will not be mocked in my own house. And I will not be mocked in the White House either by that vengeful cockroach, Cyrus, who crawls on either side of the fence."

Sally walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers. "Fitz is a fool for keeping him on staff. It is well past time that man was seen off with a golden handshake to write his memoirs, and I would have had a better chance of convincing Fitz of that had she not come along!" Sally snapped the covers up to her chin.

"Who came along?" Daniel looked up from his E-reader.

"Olivia Pope! She insists on befriending that old goat who must be cast into the everlasting fires of hell!" Sally snapped, and switched off the lamp on the night table between their twin beds.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I was going to send them off on a date to Per Se on Marine One (after reading an interview with Tony Goldwyn on the New Potato published Oct 3, 2013, see excerpt: **

**_If there were certain New York or Los Angeles restaurants President Fitzgerald Grant would be sure to be found in, what would they be? _**

**_In LA, Fitz would close down The Tower Bar [at the Sunset Tower Hotel] to have an intimate dinner with Olivia. In New York? He'd book a private room at Per Se.)_**** Then I read this unfortunate article (unfortunate because it forced me to realise reality occasionally has to be distant acquaintance of mine) : ****_The President Ate Here: What Happens When Barack Obama Dines Out?_**** Posted by Jessica Sidman on Oct. 24, 2012 on the Washington City Paper website which details that the President can't just 'drop in' to an eatery – the Secret Service needs to check the place out ( including staff checks via social security numbers, blocking off streets, checking out the premises with sniffer dogs and watching chefs prepare the meals). So, um, figured it was a lot easier to send them off to Olivia's apartment where Fitz has already been dropping by like the guy who lives across the road.**

**And yes, #DanielisNotDead in this story. Hmm…. And the bit about the goat and fires of hell was filched from an article called _Osas congregation allows the unsaved sinners to be damned_ on the Osas challenge website. Missed a specific date on the post.  
><strong>

**Also I felt bad about the Secret Service standing outside Olivia's apartment all night, so they get chairs and a meal - the meal was after reading about _The Bodyguards: All About the Female Secret Service Agentst_ (yes that extra 't' on the end of Agents was an _Elle_ typo!) written by Laura Blumenfeld in Elle on Feb 10, 2013, where they barely had time to eat on assignment in Egypt. Not sure how it works in real Secret Service Land... but this is _Scandal_ (ha, ha).**

**Oh yes and I have no idea what Fitz would like to eat, but I came across these reviews for a book titled ****_Dining at the White House: From the President's Table to Yours_**** by John Moeller (an ex-White House chef) – and some of the reviewers on Amazon had described the dishes – specifically the mushroom soup. The chocolate soufflé idea came from the New Potato article … ;)))))**


	11. Taboo

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMmin' #Jammin' # Jammin' (as Bob Marley would say). **

**No Mellie, No Joke! That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Olivia kissed her way up his chest, along his throat, biting his chin playfully before laughing against his mouth, as he tightened his arms around her and groaned, eyes still closed.<p>

"Sleep," he commanded gently.

"Can't. Kids will be awake soon. We need to go."

He groaned again, but didn't open his eyes, although his mouth puckered for her kiss.

She hovered just out of reach, forcing him to crack open an eye but he closed it again after seeing her cheeky grin.

"Fitz," she protested, then shrieked when, without warning, he erupted into action, rolling her onto her back, tickling her as she tried to wriggle away.

"Fitz! Stop!"

"No."

"Fitz!"

"No." He raised his head to look at her, laughter fading as lust took its place.

"Good morning," he said huskily, smoothing the hair from her face. Then he slowly lowered his mouth to her lips.

She sighed wrapping her arms around his neck, as he sank into the kiss, coaxing her lips apart, teasing her with his tongue.

A sudden strident knocking, jerked them apart as an agent identified himself through the closed door, adding, "Ma'am, sir, we need you out here. We have a situation."

As Fitz and Olivia stared at each other, they heard an outraged female voice yell, "Get your slimy hands off me!"

Olivia looked at Fitz. "That's Abby. Let me handle this..."

His sigh of frustration feathered her cheek, as he stroked a thumb over her lips. "Make it quick."

She laughed, pushing his hand away and getting out of bed. "Fitz, we can't... you'll have to care of it yourself, or take a cold shower."

"Heartless," Fitz groaned, burying his face in a pillow as she quickly wrapped herself in a robe.

"Well...if you take a really long shower, I might join you." She smiled, stroking a hand over his curls, then chuckled when he caught her hand, placing a lingering kiss on her palm before letting her go.

* * *

><p>When Olivia made her way to the living room she found Secret Service Agents surrounding Abby and Quinn carrying armfuls of clear wrapped white gowns.<p>

The three women stared at each other in silence, then Olivia said, "Ladies, how are we this morning?"

"Oh we're good…really good… Are you okay?" Quinn gave a tentative smile.

But before Olivia could answer, Abby demanded, "Why are you naked under that robe?"

An agent cleared his throat, "Uh, ma'am, would you like to handle this in private?"

"Thank you." Olivia nodded, as the agents saw themselves out, closing the door behind them.

"Abby..."

"Olivia! Are you cheating on the President? Why? I mean I know the man is a Republican but this is a mistake! You 'll regret this in the morning!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This is the morning, Abigail, and the only person I see regretting anything is you. So I really think you should stop talking."

"No, Liv needs to hear this, from a friend. Olivia, I get that you have cold feet. I had cold feet too, remember – that night I got drunk and got picked up by that college jock. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't found me, paid my bar tab and told the kid you wouldn't report him for putting a roofie in my drink—"

"He put a roofie in your drink?" Quinn gaped.

"No, but he got out of there fast, so must have had something else on him that he didn't want to get caught with." Olivia shrugged.

"After he left, you took me to your apartment, cleaned me up and told me not to marry Charles. I know I should have listened to you, I would have saved myself a lot of hurt if I had, but you know sometimes you just don't see what's in front of your face."

"So what's in front of my face, Abby?" Olivia raised a brow.

"You love him, the President. You know you do. It's not a political marriage, like mine and Charles. And he doesn't fit the obvious Republican type of a vile, unconscionable, money-grubbing, crony-riddled creep."

"Abby, stop, please," Quinn groaned.

"Listen, Liv, I get that you hate turning into a Stepford wife. All that fake smiling, hand shaking, polite chit chat, never telling anyone what you really think – it'll drive you crazy, but you can handle it because you're strong, Liv. You're tough on the inside. And on the outside. I mean, I could never have taken that tyre iron to Charles the way you did –aargh!" Abby's pep talk ended on an unexpected shriek as she snapped her eyes shut, while Quinn looked as if she was caught between laughter and awe.

"Good morning, all." Fitz rumbled behind Olivia a second before his arms snaked around her waist.

Shifting a hasty hand behind her back, Olivia was relieved to feel a towel covering his firm buttocks. Then blushed when he chuckled softly into her ear, teasing her lobe.

"How much longer?" he whispered loudly.

"Not much longer," she promised huskily, feeling her cheeks heat.

"Okay." He pressed a lingering kiss to her neck and sauntered off, while Olivia and Quinn openly watched his every move. Then Olivia turned to catch Abby doing the same with one sneaky eye.

Immediately, she snapped both eyes open and said defiantly, "He wasn't shy about giving us a show."

"How does he look so good for his age?" Quinn murmured. "And those abs…phew!"

"Hey!" Olivia returned.

"Sorry," Quinn grinned unabashed. "And uh, Abigail…you were saying."

Abby gave a martyred look, "I didn't know you were with him."

"yes, you did! You said the guys outside couldn't be gangsters because their suits were bought on the government pay-scale."

"That didn't mean I knew_ he_ was here! Harrison said that Olivia had started travelling with a posse. I thought they belonged to her!" Abby glared at Quinn, then turned her glare on Olivia, "What are you doing here with him anyway?"

"More to the point what are you doing in my apartment, carrying all those wedding dresses?" Olivia countered.

* * *

><p>"So they are helping James?"<p>

"Yeah," Olivia smiled as he dried her off after their shared shower. "And I think Abby approves of you."

"For a vile, unconscionable, money-grubbing, crony-riddled creep?"

"Yes," she giggled, kissing his chin, and taking the towel out of his hands to wipe him down.

He watched her face, smiling as her hands teased him, then groaned in disappointment when she stopped before things could get really interesting.

"Hey." He tried to hold onto her, then quickly sidestepped a flick from the towel in her hands.

"Playtime is over for you," she said firmly.

"You know now that we're talking about the wedding, there's something else we need to talk about." He said, watching her hips as she walked to the bathroom counter and took out the moisturising lotion from her overnight kit.

"What's that?" She glanced, over her shoulder.

"Have you told your father we're getting married on Valentine's Day?"

She instantly turned away, her shoulders stiffening. "No."

"Livvie, he has to walk you down the aisle."

"We're not marrying in a Church. There's no aisle."

"Livvie, you need family there."

She watched him in the mirror, smoothing her hands over her belly in circles before sliding them up to her breasts.

In a flash he was behind her, his hands taking the place of hers as she leaned against him.

"You're seducing me," he chuckled huskily.

"Yes…" she murmured, one arm reaching up to snake behind his neck.

"Your dad needs to be there, Livvie."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does."

She suddenly dropped her arm and pushed away from him. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Liv." He caught her hand. "He's your only living relative. Not having him there will just cause unnecessary speculation."

"Would you have asked Big Gerry to the wedding, if he was still here?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

"I would have told him, Livvie, because he would have come anyway."

"Rowan won't be able to do that, if you tell Morris he can't be let past the gate."

"Livvie..."

She stood on tiptoe, to give him a hard, brief kiss. "No."

* * *

><p>"Sally, now why would you give a man like Orson Wurdle of Global Unity for Families a hundred thousand dollars?" Daniel Douglas Langston, looked across the breakfast table at his wife.<p>

Sally paused in the middle of spooning honey onto her oatmeal, frowning. "Do not be ridiculous, Daniel. Why would I donate one red cent to that cause, knowing you would be against it?"

"I must doubt the conviction in your tone when I recall that this would not be the first time you have lied to me," Daniel said grimly.

"I would encourage you to let sleeping dogs lie, Daniel. My soul wearies of these tired old arguments. I am, however, surprised to see that you have concerned yourself with our finances when it was understood that division of labour would fall on me. May I ask what has brought on your sudden interest?"

"My 'sudden' interest as you call it has been awakened by this news story that you are one of the biggest donors to that wretched organisation."

"What?!" Sally left her chair to snatch the IPad off the table. "What is this? I can barely read this! Why can't you read a newspaper like a normal human being?"

"I am a normal human being who has embraced modern technology, Sally. And what you are reading has not yet been picked up by the major news outlets, though I have no doubt it will. What you are looking at there is a blog."

"_A blog_? Why do you insist on reading such nonsense written up as fact?" she said impatiently. "It is unfortunate for this particular writer that his lies have been brought to my attention. I will have shut this little gossip site down in my suit of defamation!"

"I doubt that you will succeed, Sally. They have included a copy of the emails that our attorneys wrote directly to the accountants confirming the anonymous donations over the last two years."

"If the donations were made anonymously, I fail to see the link to my good name."

"The emails were copied to you. I can show you the trail of documented evidence, if you care to see it."

"I do not care to see it!" Sally snapped. "It's a lie! It's all lies!"

At Daniel's wry look, Sally gritted her teeth, holding back the expletives that could not be uttered. She took a deep breath and went back to her seat. "This is just a very obvious attempt by that…that… presumptuous deviant to discredit me and my office. I can think of no other reason for this travesty, sullying my good name."

"And mine," Daniel Douglas Langston muttered.

* * *

><p>"So what can you tell me about this story going around that Sally has been donating big time to that anti-gay lobby group?" James asked, spooning mashed banana into Ella's mouth.<p>

The Wall Street Journal hit the table in flurry of pages as Cyrus stared owlishly. "_What_?"

"Oh, so you don't know about it? It's not in your bible?" James gestured to the newspaper on the breakfast table.

"James," Cyrus said with barely contained patience, "What were you saying about Sally?"

"There's a LGBT blogger who's printed a list of Republican politicians have been secretly donating to Global Unity for Families. Sally Langston is on that list, among the top five contributors."

"I knew it!" Cyrus thumped the table, startling Ella. "I knew she was giving those bigots more than a sympathetic ear up on Capitol Hill!"

"Could you not abuse the furniture. Ella doesn't like it," James scolded, keeping his tone light as he tickled Ella's chin, distracting her. "And the inside voice that you want to hear from Daddy Cyrus for today is soft and gentle, isn't that right, Ella my sweet?"

Cyrus gave a wide smile for Ella's benefit, and hissed through gritted teeth, "Wait, you said these were secret donations. Have they got proof?"

"They've got links to emails, electronic receipts. Even the relationship to third party donors, who've including a family pet who shares the same surname as the two-legged members of its household. I would say somebody failed Common Sense 101."

Cyrus remained focused on his arch nemesis. "And Sally's name is there for all to see?"

"Well, there are emails sent by a legal firm to an accountant, confirming the anonymous donations, and they've noted at the bottom, copy to Mrs Sally Langston with a client reference number. The client reference is a match on another letter by the same firm, addressed to Mrs Sally Langston at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue."

Cyrus gave a genuine smile. "I do like it when all the dots line up to make an easy connection."

"Well, you may not like the next line of dots I have to share. News of her donation is being well received in certain sections of this great nation of ours. You know the herds we like to call hate groups."

The smile on Cyrus' face vanished. "Don't tell me they've already jumped on this, those bread-and-butter Republican voters who believe that Gays and Lesbians are to blame for Hurricane Sandy and all other natural disasters afflicting this earth?"

"Not only have they jumped on it, there are blog posts and tweets going around praising Sally for putting her money where her mouth is. Those nutjobs in the TMG Party have started promoting her as their poster child; they are asking her to step up and challenge Fitzgerald Grant at the next election."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So the idea for this chapter came from ****_How To Stay Anonymous When You Give To Charity_**** by Deborah L. Jacobs published in Forbes on 9/19/2012 and ****_Stupid Mistakes that Lawyers Make with Technology_**** By Sharon Nelson and John Simek , published Mar.17.11 on the Attorney at Work website. Yes, little things can keep me entertained for days …;))). **

**Of course, I had to use my lazy-writer opt-out, by making the accountants and lawyers silly enough to include the client reference number in the email and a conveniently found letter… I couldn't think of another way to link Sally to Global Unity (I blame it on Dog panting in my face to let me know it's hot – 'tho the breeze was nice, even if it did come with remnants of canine lunch).**

**Now since I started with Bob Marley, I will leave you (until next time!) with my favourite line in his ****_Redemption Song_****: 'Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds'. And while we mourn Macklemore's win at the Grammys, just a note to say that a Bob Marley song or album never actually won a Grammy. (After his death, Bob Marley did receive a posthumous Lifetime Achievement Grammy in 2001). **

**Regardless, Bob Marley was also the guy who gave the song-writing credit for '****_No Woman, No Cry'_**** to his friend Vincent Ford, who ran a soup kitchen in Kingston, Jamaica. Bob Marley wrote the song but gave away the credit so the royalties would fund the soup kitchen indefinitely. You can read about this in About Dot Com - ****_Bob Marley Trivia_**** and Wikipedia '****_No Woman No Cry' _****#How-To-Win-At-Life-Without-A-Gold-SippyCup.  
><strong>


	12. Cocoon

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** #HappyBirthdayKerryWashington! #Inspirational: "Be The Lead in Your Own Life" #Aspirational: "I'm interested in living in a post-racist world." #Amazing**

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Oh, and the breaking news is that conservative knuckleheads want Sally Langston to be the next President," Cyrus said, watching Fitz get his notes in order, before his meeting with the Press Secretary.<p>

"Who announced her candidacy – Fox News?"

"Among others. You know the attack media shapes public opinion. The millions listening to the Rush Limbaughs and Glenn Becks are hearing that you're a lefty-leaning, dictator-worshiping, Constitution-wrecking abomination! Sally Langston on the other hand is the new Messiah who will lead them to their Right Wing utopia."

Fitz sat back, still with a look of amusement on his face. "Meanwhile, in other news, the Iran is willing to stop its nuclear program for six months in exchange for an easing of economic sanctions. The real breaking news is that Secretary of State will be flying out to Iran to discuss this with the foreign ministers of the P5 plus 1 group of countries."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that – P5 plus one, you say? Tell that on the news, and they'll think it's a new tax code or a new superbug."

Fitz grinned. "I'll help my fellow Americans understand the importance of this historic meeting by the five Permanent members of the United Nations Security Council plus Germany. And I'll keep it simple for the Limbaugh listeners at the press conference tonight."

Cyrus gave a pitying look. "Sir, they won't be watching. They'll be tuned into _the Real Housewives of Atlanta _or _The Bachelor _or whatever mind-numbing drivel is on. This is the generation of sound bites and impatience. No one cares that a country which once called us 'The Great Satan', is now negotiating with us to freeze its nuclear program."

"We can't run this country on sound bites, Cyrus."

"I would agree with you if this wasn't a re-election year. You have to get those Limbaugh listeners to believe that you are as much of a good Christian Conservative as Sally Langston who patrols the halls of Congress passing laws that restrict the freedoms of immigrants, gays and people who are pro-choice."

"Cyrus, it's too late for Sally to announce her candidacy. The only way she can run at the next election is if I die, quit or get impeached by Congress."

* * *

><p>"So we're all decided on the red velvet cake?"<p>

Olivia looked around her dining table at James and her associates.

Karen seated on her lap, nodded; Peter, joining them via a live link on her laptop, said 'yes'; while Jerry standing by the table, video-taping the proceedings for his 'wedding diary', gave a thumbs up.

"Red Velvet Cake with Ermine icing. Perfect," said Abby, smiling.

"Wait, ermine as in rats?" Jerry asked, looking up from the camera screen.

"No, that's vermin," said James, "This is urr-minn."

"Ermine also means the white winter fur on animals like weasels and stoats," said Peter, over the laptop speakers. "I looked it up online when I got the box this afternoon." Referring to the box of cakes that had been couriered to Andover, so he could join the rest of the 'wedding committee' in deciding on the kind of cake Abby should make for the wedding.

"But don't you think it's a bit of a cliché?" Quinn wrinkled her nose. "Can't we have something with a bit more pizzazz – like lavender and blueberry, or chocolate and habanero cake? Or should that be jalapeno...?"

"That's a lovely idea, but we're going for romance, not heartburn," James said.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Abby smiled, as Quinn made a face.

"I like chocolate mousse cake," Huck said, "Why isn't there a chocolate mousse cake?"

"Because it doesn't look pretty when you have to take pictures and there's chocolate mousse all over your teeth," said Abby.

"I'm okay with Red Velvet, but if it wouldn't be first on my list. I'd go for mocha, or walnut and coffee, or may be lemon. Yeah, nothing too sweet," said Harrison. "The coconut with lemon icing was good. I'd pick that."

"But it's Valentine's Day," said Karen. "We have to have a red cake for Valentine's Day and the cake layers, from dark red to light red, look so pretty."

"The kid's got a point," said Harrison. "It is Valentine's Day."

"Yep." Huck nodded. "Valentine's. Gotta have red."

"I guess the red rose buds with sugar frosting are kind of pretty too," admitted Quinn.

"Okay, so we're having Red Velvet cake," said Olivia, exchanging a smile with Karen.

James looked at the list on his iPad. "So getting back to my To-Do List: cake – check; decorations –check; menu – check; flowers – check. The invitations, menu cards and name cards – all done. The music is organised. Wedding party and invited guests details have been handed over to the Secret Service and uh, that reminds me, I didn't see your parents on the list, Olivia."

There was a brief silence, then Olivia said brightly, "I only have one parent, James, my dad. And he's not invited."

"So your Dad isn't going to walk you down the aisle?" Quinn's eyes rounded.

"No. I can walk, unaided, on my own two feet."

There was a long silence, then James got to his feet. "Right, let's have a look at those wedding gowns that Abigail got from the bridal boutique in Virginia."

There was a noisy exodus from the table to the guest room where the dresses had been stored. The only people who remained were Olivia, Harrison and the kids.

After a moment, Harrison said diffidently, "Liv, I've got to say something. And I know you're going to hate me for saying it but I'm going to speak my mind because you're the closest thing to family I have around here. So I want you to hear me on this: even if you don't want Rowan to walk you down the aisle, he has to be there."

At Olivia's stony expression, he added quickly, "Now, don't get me wrong. I hate having to say this because I never liked the guy too, but he is your dad, Liv. And you can't cut him out on the most important day of your life."

Karen leaned her head back on Olivia's shoulder and reached up a hand to stroke her cheek, as Jerry cut in with quiet determination, "I can walk you down the aisle, Mom."

Olivia smiled at Jerry, and gave Karen a kiss. Then she looked at Harrison and sighed. "Harrison is right. I do have to tell my Dad."

* * *

><p>"The problem is the man is damned near incorruptible."<p>

"Unlike his father."

There were guwaffs of laughter from the men and polite laughter from the women around the table at Number One Observatory Circle, where Sally and Daniel Langston were hosting a dinner party for a handful of Republican supporters – men who had their feet cemented in America's top one per cent.

"Big Gerry was a man who could never say no to a bribe."

"Or a woman."

This time only the men laughed heartily; the women avoided each other's gaze as they cut into the food on their plates.

"We could always count on the man to be the strong arm of the law. Listening to him threaten some damned Mayor with funding cuts if he didn't approve my building permits and to hell with the gotdamn zoning restrictions, was pure entertainment."

"Pity the son doesn't take after the father."

"If not that, he should have remained the ineffectual idealist he's been the past three years. That head injury of his is doing us all a lot of damage."

"The man did lose his wife," one of the wives ventured. "The shock must have shaken his priorities."

"From what I hear, her replacement is the one lighting a fire under his wazoo, with her damned middle-class expectations of affirmative action."

There was a brief silence, as if the conversational meander had brought them to an unexpected precipice.

"I believe Ms Olivia Pope was introduced to the President by Cyrus Beene," Sally said, carefully dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "A man who displays his depravity with pride. Not only was he the catalyst for that disgraceful affair, which destroyed Fitzgerald's marriage, but he himself married a man to highlight his utter contempt for the traditions of marriage."

There was an easing of the tension around the table. "I must admit it is audacious of the man."

"To marry so soon after the death of his wife."

"I could not stand the wife myself, but he should have waited a decent amount of time, considering the tragic circumstances of her death."

"A tragedy that is punishing the innocent, with these restrictions he is proposing on gun ownership."

"Those laws will never pass through Congress. They got the message after Bloomberg's anti-gun Mayors were run out of town in November."

"Well, I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that our Constitutional right to bear arms is protected," Sally gave a steely smile.

"You can top that assurance by making sure Grant doesn't succeed in turning this great land of opportunity into a gotdamn Socialist country. I sure as heck don't want a redistribution of wealth! I earned every penny my daddy gave me, and I intend to keep it!"

There was general laughter again.

"Oh, I believe I am in total agreement with your views," Sally smiled. "We need to cut cut taxes, cut welfare spending, cut red tape and open up the markets."

"I got to say, Mrs Langston. For a woman, you talk a lot of sense."

"Oh, please, call me Sally," she simpered. "I hope I can call you, Chuck."

"You can call me any damn thing you like, if you can get that get that Socialist kicked out of office!"

His brother, Doug, nodded in agreement. "I never thought I'd be the first to say this, but I think this country is ready to have its first female President. And not on an interim basis."

Sally gave a laugh. "Strange, but I am of the same mind, and to quote that great queen Elizabeth the First, 'I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king."

"Well, if you know of a way to get into the driver's seat, let me tell ya, we're all here to put gas in the tank."

* * *

><p>Olivia was trying not to smile at Jerry's suggestion of a fashion parade for his video diary, as she sat on the couch, between Karen and Peter, via laptop, munching on popcorn and drinking fruit juice.<p>

"Okay, we're ready," Jerry called out.

Quinn came out of the bedroom wearing a white lace gown with an A-line skirt and a plunging neckline.

"Nope," Olivia said

"Why? I like this one," Jerry said.

"You can see her boobies," Karen said.

"What?" Quinn clutched the neckline, and glared at Jerry. "Stop looking at my boobs!"

"I am not!"

"It's okay, you're not showing anything X-rated," Olivia said, "But the neck is too revealing."

"I agree. My parents would not approve of me standing next to all that cleavage," Peter mumbled, the crunch of pop corn audible over the speakers.

"Fine," Jerry sighed wearily as Quinn flounced off to change. "Next!"

This time Abby came out wearing a chiffon, strapless, empire style dress with a beaded waistband.

"It's a bit summery," Olivia said, with a considering tilt of her head. "And we'll probably still have snow in February."

"The White House has heating." Abby frowned.

"I was hoping for a shorter skirt."

"Okay, we want a shorter skirt out here!" Abby called out.

James came out wearing a tea-length gown with a sweetheart neckline that he was holding up with both hands

"I couldn't zip it up the back, but this should give you an idea."

There was a silence, then everyone spoke at once.

"Um, the skirt..." Olivia began.

"Maybe because he's not wearing shoes," Karen said.

"I think it's the hairy chest," Jerry said. "It's distracting."

"And the hairy ankles," Peter said.

"You can see my ankles from over there? Olivia, what brand is that?" James narrowed his gaze on Olivia's laptop.

"Next!" The others called out.

"I'm not happy about this." Harrison came out wearing a tulle ball gown with a chapel train, most of it carried in his arms.

"Well, he's wearing shoes," Karen said.

"But those custom-made leather shoes and purple-striped socks kind of spoil the effect," James said.

"If you let the skirt down, we'll get a better idea," Jerry said.

Harrison rolled his eyes and dropped the skirt. "Happy?"

His audience shook their heads.

"Okay, Huck you're next!"

Huck came out wearing a knee length skirt he was holding with one hand and a jacket that was unbuttoned to reveal a hairy chest.

Karen looked at Olivia. "Is it okay for me to look at him, Mom?"

"Only if you want to," Olivia whispered.

"I like this one," Huck said grimly. "It's pretty."

"This kind of works," Olivia said kindly. "I like the skirt and jacket idea. But there's just something…"

The others contemplated Huck in silence.

"Yeah, maybe if you smile," Harrison said.

Huck smiled.

"Or maybe not. Quit smiling. It worked better the other way."

"Maybe it's the colour, that's wrong," said Peter. They all looked at the laptop screen. "You should wear red. It's a very lucky in Chinese culture. Traditionally, brides wore red."

"Yes, wear red!" Karen clapped her hands. "Your dress can match the cake."

"No, you have to wear Olivia Pope white," Abby shook her head.

"Yeah, the media will never stop talking about you wearing red," Harrison added.

* * *

><p>When the kids and Olivia got back to the White House residence, Karen ran on ahead to find Fitz.<p>

"Mom, Jerry, quick look at Daddy," Karen whispered, chuckling, as she tiptoed out of the East Sitting Hall and gestured Olivia and Jerry forward, with a quick wave of her hands.

They found Fitz asleep on the couch, with all four dogs lying on various parts of him.

Olivia chuckled. "That is too cute!"

"Say 'snooze', Dad!" Jerry grinned, taking a picture with his phone.

He had enough time to take a few quick shots before Rex and Poppy jumped off and came running forward, their tails wagging madly; while Darth looked up from Fitz's chest to give a little yip; and Daisy thumped her tail, squeezed in between Fitz and the couch.

"Hi," Fitz grinned sleepily rubbing his eyes, before he lifted Darth off his chest, and coaxed Daisy aside so he could sit up. "You guys look happy. Has the Grant wedding approval committee finalised all the details?"

Olivia and Jerry sat down on either side of him, while Karen clambered onto his lap.

"Everything, except Mom's dress," Karen said.

"I couldn't decide."

"But we know the cake you're going to have," Karen changed the topic.

"Red velvet cake with ermine frosting. Weird name but it tasted good," Jerry added.

"It was yummy."

Fitz raised a brow. "You guys didn't save me a piece?"

Smiling, Olivia reached into the carrier bag she'd placed on the corner of the couch, and lifted out the sample box of mini cakes, identical to the box that had been sent to Peter.

Fitz gave her a smile and a kiss, which Olivia cut short with a shy smile as she made a production of opening the box.

"We chose this one," Karen pointed to a white square, topped with a sugar-frosted rose bud.

"Pretty." Fitz polished off the cake in two bites, rose and all. "Mmm... yummy."

Karen giggled as Fitz nuzzled her cheek, adding, "I'm going to wear a red dress. And so is Abby and Quinn. Harrison is going to wear a Tux. Huck says he's okay wearing a suit, after he spent all afternoon in a dress."

"Do I even want to know what that is about?" Fitz looked at Olivia.

"Jerry took pictures. It's going to be his gift to us. You'll get to see the video diary after the wedding."

"Yeah?" Fitz bumped Jerry's shoulder.

"Yeah." Jerry bumped back.

"I'm sorry we missed your press conference," Olivia murmured.

"It's okay. We've uploaded the entire session on Youtube."

Jerry did a double-take. "Wow, Dad, welcome to the World Wide Web. You are officially a nerd."

"I was always a nerd," Fitz grinned.

"A sexy nerd," Olivia said softly, leaning against Fitz, earning herself a look that centred on her lips.

Jerry gave an exaggerated yawn. "This wedding stuff is hard work. I'm tired. Kaz should be too. Come on, say goodnight."

"I'm not tired," Karen frowned.

"Yes, you are." Jerry made a face at her.

"Oh! Yes, I am!" Karen grinned, giving Olivia and Fitz a kiss and a hug, followed quickly by Jerry.

Then they both disappeared.

"Should I be worried, that my kids know when I want to kiss you badly?" Fitz asked.

Olivia laughed. "I'd be worried if you didn't want to kiss me," she whispered, as he leaned into her so they lay sprawled on the couch.

He kissed her long and lazily, then handed her the cake box and said 'feed me'.

"You are not eating all of them tonight."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"We can share."

"Even sharing, that's a lot of sugar."

Fitz kissed the tip of her nose, and smiled. "You know it's customary to get me naked if you want to play doctor."

"Which doctors have been making a custom of that? I need names, addresses, mug shots if available."

He laughed. "You're cute when you get jealous."

"Names, Fitz."

He looked at her with smoky eyes, until she said huskily, "Maybe we should continue this conversation in the bedroom. After I put the cakes away in the kitchen for you to have tomorrow."

"Awww... can't I at least try the one with the coconut flakes?"

She rolled her eyes. "All right, but that's it. The others will have to keep for tomorrow."

He gave her a noisy kiss. "I love you."

"I'll take that under advisement, after I check out your doctors."

He chuckled, kissing her again before releasing her, and helping her off the couch. "So what's the problem with the dress?"

"I don't know, they were a bit Southern Belle-ish."

Fitz slipped his arm around her waist as they exited the room, placing a lingering kiss on her temple. "You won't look anything like her."

"I know... it's just," Olivia sighed, then gave a soft chuckle. "Peter said I should wear red."

Fitz grinned. "You'll be gorgeous in red."

"But my dad would not approve." Olivia paused, scrunching her nose. "Maybe I should wear red, just to annoy him."

Fitz stopped abruptly. "Your Dad?"

"Yep, Harrison talked me into inviting him."

"Harrison? What did he do?"

"Just explained the importance of family."

"Hey, I did that, and you didn't listen."

"There are ways. And there are ways."

"Huh. Is Harrison interested in joining the Republican Party? I could use a man like him in Congress."

Olivia glanced at him as they entered the Private Kitchen. "Still no support for the anti-gun proposal?"

"None. From my own party. I've had more offers of support from the Democrats, especially the Senate, with Edison's working the numbers in my favour."

"Edison?"

"Edison." He watched her face, but Olivia kept her expression bland. "What about the House?"

"That's where I've got the biggest roadblock."

Olivia placed the cake box on the counter, and approached Fitz, sliding her arms around his waist. "Well, Mr Sexy President, I think it's time to use your Presidential superpowers."

He grinned, sliding his hands down her back. "Oh, I'm going to, Mrs Grant-Pope."

She gave a husky laugh. "I was talking about an executive order."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So thanks to President Obama's SOTU 2014 address where (to paraphrase Jon Stewart of _The Daily Show_) he essentially said 'F*ck all y'all' to Congress, I have learnt of the wonders of an Executive Order. However, I will try to give Fitz some new material instead of stealing all of Barack Obama's initiatives ;)))) #FuturisticWorldParliament-Obama4President-2020!**

**So for the other stuff I stole for this chapter - there was the Iranian update: _Sanctions lifted after Iran curbs nuclear programme_ - written by Charlotte McDonald-Gibson in The Independent on Jan 20, 2014;**

**_Bloomberg's Anti-Gun Lobby Takes Another Huge Hit With 23 Reelection Failures_- by Katie Pavlich published in Townhall-dot-com, on Nov 8, 2013**

**Chuck and Doug are loosely based (Klunkett style) on these guys: _Political activities of the Koch brothers_- article on Wikipedia.**

**_The Top Talk Radio Audiences_ from Talkers-Dot-Com which gives the weekly figures for January 2014. Rush Limbaugh rules apparently (*whyyyyeeeeee!*)**


	13. Chrysalis

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"I'd like to thank each and every one of you for giving up your Saturday to be here at such short notice. Your dedication is remarkable and we appreciate it," Fitzgerald Grant said, looking at the interns assembled in the East Room.<p>

"Having said that, I want to remind you that this a request, not a command. It's okay, if you've changed your mind about being here and decide you'd rather be home, watching a movie or walking the dog," He paused at the encouraging bark from Daisy, sitting at his feet, followed by a ripple of laughter. "Daisy approves of option two."

There was more laughter.

"So does anyone want to leave?"

No one moved.

"If you change your mind, just let Jan or Pete know." He indicated the White House aides, standing behind him. "Or they'll worry that you've been abducted by those aliens we keep in the basement."

Again there was laughter.

"So for those of you determined to stay, your folders contain a list of telephone numbers – each folder has a different list so you won't be doubling up on calls. These numbers belong to key members of advocacy groups either for gun rights, or for gun control. We want to know their top five concerns, and what's number one on their wish list of any legislative initiatives.

"Once you've done that, I would like to know your views, for and against gun control within the framework of our Bill of Rights, not just the Second Amendment."

"Excuse me, sir, but isn't that the job of the White House lawyers?" one of the interns asked.

Fitz grinned. "You're right, but sometimes it helps to get a fresh perspective and you are all my fresh perspective. Out of interest, are you for or against gun control, TJ?"

The intern appeared taken aback that Fitz knew his name, then he rallied. "I'm against, sir."

"Then I'd like to hear your views for gun control. Think of this as a college debate. The Supreme Court is your opposition. And..." Fitz swept his gaze over the interns again, "...all I ask is that you keep your essays to under 1000 words, with a brief summary of your argument. This would be a kindness to me – even though I'm a good speed reader, I'm not that good."

Again there was laughter.

"Now, as you're aware you'll be working out of the offices you're normally assigned to. If you need anything else, let Jan or Pete know or come see me, I'll be in the Oval office. Any questions? No? Great, let's get to work!"

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

"Hi. That was quick."

"I'm a fast talker, and most of them were too intimidated to ask questions," Fitz smiled. "Like you said, I need to get more involved with the volunteers. This was a good start."

"Mm, very good start."

"How are my girls?"

"We're very excited to be taking a trip on Marine One. Baby K is sitting next to me with her nose stuck to the window."

Fitz chuckled. "Let me know how you go."

"We will. Would you like anything from the Mid West?"

"Only my girls back safely." When she didn't respond immediately, he asked, "Hey, are you still there?"

"Yep, still here."

He smiled at her husky response. "I love you."

"I love you too. And here's Baby K."

Fitz had just finished speaking to his daughter, when Jerry came out of Oval Office, holding Teddy at arm's length.

"The little dude's a bit stinky. I think he's done poos."

Lifting Teddy into his arms, Fitz took a whiff of his nappy, and agreed. "Yep. He sure has. A motherload by the smell of it."

"Want me to take him to the nurse?"

"I'll take him. This might be my only chance to spend time with him today."

As they walked down the hallway towards the residence, Jerry said, "You know, Dad, I've been thinking..."

"Yeah?" Fitz angled a wary look, which prompted a grin from Jerry.

"Dad, don't give me that look."

"Said the kid who nearly got us incinerated by a nuclear missile."

"Geez, Dad, that was a one off, and I learned from that mistake. Now I only tweet harmless stuff, like that picture of you with the dogs last night."

"What?" Fitz stopped dead in his tracks.

"Dad, it was just a picture of you on the couch with the dogs. Nothing serious. I put it on Instagram, and Facebook, now it's going around Tumblr and people are writing captions on Twitter."

"Jerry..."

"Dad, before you go ballistic, you should know that the PrezAlert hashtag is trending on Twitter. That's better than the 30 people who watched your yawnfest Press Conference on Youtube."

Fitz gave an exasperated sigh and resumed walking. "Jerry, talking about nuclear disarmament is a bit like calculus – complex therefore boring, but necessary."

"Yeah, Dad, that's okay if you only want Math nerds to vote for you, but what about the rest of the school – you know the jocks, geeks, emos and weirdos. You've got to appeal to a lot more people."

Fitz turned to Jerry, a smile ghosting his lips. "Rowan was right, you are a very smart kid."

"Wait, did you say Rowan? Mom's fake dad? That Rowan? He said I'm smart."

"Yep. And he's not Mom's fake dad. He's her real dad, and I get the impression he likes you."

Jerry thought for a bit. "Nuh, still don't like him."

"Jer, he's going to be family," Fitz said softly.

"Anyway what I was thinking, is that you should get kids talking about what scares them about guns. There's a lot of kids who've seen their friends die in school or in the neighbourhood, so why not get them talking?"

Fitz secured Teddy in one arm, then snaked the other out to haul Jerry into a hug, adding a kiss on top of his curly head for good measure.

"Dad! Get off!" Jerry protested, struggling, but he didn't bother hiding the big grin on his face.

* * *

><p>"Mr Guildford."<p>

"Now, Olivia," The tall, white-haired man grinned as he gathered Olivia into a hug. "I know it's been a few years since you helped my son, but I do remember asking you to call me Hank the first time we met."

Olivia smiled. "Hank, thank you for seeing me at such short notice."

"Olivia, we're honoured to be part of the President's campaign. Now, who is this lovely young lady holding onto your hand as if she's afraid to let go?"

Keeping her left hand tucked firmly in Olivia's, Karen extended her right. "Hello, I'm Karen."

"Well, hello, Karen that's a lovely name for a lovely young lady." Hank Guilford bent at the waist to shake her hand. "Now my confidential sources tell me that you love horses. Is that true?"

Karen smiled, sneaking a glance at Olivia. "Yes, it's true. Mom said you have Appaloosas."

"That I do. I used to breed them, but now I give a home to the old and blind ones."

They were interrupted by a whirr of wheels across the floor tiles, and Hank turned round grinning. "Ah, the cavalry has arrived to rescue you from my horse talk."

"Hank, I knew you'd be holding these poor girls hostage. Olivia, it's so lovely to see you again, my dear." The salt and pepper-haired woman in the wheelchair embraced Olivia, before turning to Karen. "And this must Karen Grant. Oh now, don't be shy. Come over here and give me a hug."

"Ginny," Hank addressed the new arrival. "Karen here was asking me about the Appaloosas."

"Oh, you love horses too? Now isn't that a coincidence? My grand-daughter loves horses and she's visiting us this weekend."

Ginny turned her chair around, then holding hands with Karen, she led the way through the sprawling home while Olivia and Hank followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Now from what that little girl said, I believe congratulations are in order," Hank turned to Olivia with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's not official yet. We're getting married next month, but we haven't gone public with the news, because of what happened."

"Ah, yes the tragedy at Blair House."

Olivia angled a glance at him. "It's okay, you can say her name."

Hank smiled, taking her hand and tucking it through his arm. "My dear Olivia, I'm not being sensitive to your feelings. Well, perhaps a smidgin. But I met the woman when her father and I moved in the same circles. She was a nasty piece of work; went out of her way to insult my Ginny, and I have never forgiven her for that.

"But I must not speak ill of the dead." He patted Olivia's hand. "And I am pleased that the man who captured your elusive heart is none other than President Grant. He's an impressive young man; Ginny started campaigning for him, the day after he went on national television to declare his love for you. So ignore the hate-mongers, my dear, and know that you have friends who are 100 per cent in support of your marriage."

Olivia gave a wry smile. "You and Ginny are in a unique position to know the problems Fitz will face by marrying me."

"Olivia, Ginny and I married seven years after the Loving case in 1967, but people's minds had not caught up with the law. I would say they still haven't. Ginny had a harder time of it, than I did; just as I'm sure you will, compared to the President. But could you live without him?"

"No. I tried. It didn't work for either of us."

"And it didn't work for Ginny or I. Yes, it will be difficult, Olivia. But seeing you and the President be happy together, is what we need to understand the beauty of love in all its many shades."

* * *

><p>"We got the right to keep and bear arms from the 1689 English Bill of Rights, and the English came with it after King James II of England disarmed the Protestants in favour of the Catholics."<p>

"The English said Parliament not the Monarchy could regulate the right to bear arms. So when you think about it, the Parliament armed the public so they couldn't be kicked out by the King's army."

"They were living in a state of war between their government and their king. But the Parliament realised that when the Monarchy lost influence, an armed public would turn against the government, which is why the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia abolished this common law right by Statute in the last century."

"And we enshrined it in the Second Amendment of our Constitution, because our Founding Fathers couldn't imagine a day when a kid would use a semi-automatic rifle to gun down a bunch of elementary school kids."

Fitz looked at his security advisors and legal counsel sprawled on couches, armchairs and even the carpet in their casual clothes, wearing the same intent expressions they had during the working week.

"Paranoia is what made gun ownership a right, and it's a gift that keeps on giving to the NRA. Nothing sells more guns than fear."

"Sir, but the Constitution doesn't say we have the right to assault weapons."

"Or the right to avoid background checks."

"Or that we have the right to own armour-piercing bullets."

Fitz digested that information, before posing another question. "What about the illegal trafficking of firearms and the Gun Show loophole?"

"We could make it a law that you need a Federal Firearms License to sell firearms at a gun show."

"Yeah, those licensees are required by law to do a background check using the FBI's National Instant Criminal Background Check System."

"Or we could have a specific gun show permit that incorporates the safety check requirement."

"You know, what gets me, is that we have stricter regulations for building and food safety than we do for the sale of guns." One advisor shook his head.

Another looked at him. "We're not exactly breaking new ground here – we already have seven States demanding background checks on all gun sales at gun shows. We just need to make that a federal requirement."

Fitz tapped his pen on the notepad in front of him. "What about the issue of kids having access to guns?"

* * *

><p>"Olivia, you know Hank and I are not in total agreement on this issue," Virginia Guilford said as she topped up the plate of home-made cookies.<p>

They were seated on the patio at the back, with a clear view of the paddock where, in the company of the Guilford's teenaged grand-daughter, Karen was feeding apples and carrots to handful of horses crowding near the fence.

Olivia smiled. "That's why I chose the two of you. We need to hear more than one perspective."

"I know Ginny believes in responsible gun ownership as opposed to gun control, partly because of her heritage."

"Mostly because of my heritage. It's no secret that the Klu Klux Klan were among the first to advocate gun control because they wanted to disarm African Americans and leave us defenceless. The legacy of race is never too far from this debate."

Hank reached for Ginny's hand, taking it in both of his. "I am well aware of the Black Codes that operated in the Southern States after the Civil war. And that Martin Luther King Jr was refused a gun permit in 1956, after his house was bombed."

"He was denied a permit by the police, even though the NRA and Republican Party supported his application."

"Not out of the goodwill of their hearts, Ginny. You know the colour of money rules in this country. But look at where we are at now – gun violence is the number one cause of death among African American kids."

Ginny gave Hank a wry look. "I know that, Hank. I read the figures by the Children's Defence Fund –that more African American children—"

"60,000" Hank said.

"That 60,000 of our kids have been killed by guns between 1963 and 2010, which is seventeen times more than the total number of African Americans lynched between 1862 and 1968."

A heavy silence followed Ginny's statement and Hank shifted closer to her. Then a shout of laughter from the paddock, drew their attention to the two girls getting nuzzled by the group of eager horses, and the tension dissipated.

Ginny turned to face Olivia. "I can understand that the personal tragedies suffered by President Grant, are giving him the impetus to fight against the tide on this issue. He was shot, and that woman he married was killed. But he's a Republican, and Republican Presidents don't fight for gun control. Even Ronald Reagan who passed one of the toughest laws on gun control - the 1967 Mulford Act - during his time as Governor of California, went on to become the first presidential candidate in a hundred years to be endorsed by the NRA."

"You fight to protect the ones you love, Ginny." Hank murmured, "Just like I stand with the President, if he's serious about tighter gun control. I don't want anyone else to go through what you did, Ginny."

"Hank, you know I got shot by accident. It wasn't premeditated. It was a random drive-by shooting; I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was lucky enough to live… It hurts me ever day to remember those kids who didn't survive."

"Kids, Ginny, like our grand-daughter."

"I know, Hank! Don't think I don't know that!" Ginny glared at Hank. "But we have to be real about all this. We need to have protections that won't make people have a knee-jerk reaction to their Constitutional rights! The only way we can make headway is if we increase victims' rights; make the gun manufacturers responsible for their product like Big Tobacco. That's what I'm talking about. We won't get anywhere if we keep talking about taking away people's guns."

Hank leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, reminding Olivia of Fitz.

And just like Fitz, Hank then sneaked a kiss on Ginny's lips until a rogue smile appeared and she pushed him away.

"You're embarrassing, Olivia," Ginny said primly.

"She don't look embarrassed to me," Hank said, with an unrepentant grin.

"Nope," Olivia shook her head.

"Oh, don't encourage him. He's too much of a reprobate as it is."

"But she loves me anyway," Hank chuckled, giving his wife another kiss.

* * *

><p>When Marine One touched down on the South Lawn, Fitz was waiting for them on the helipad.<p>

"Daddy!" Karen launched herself into his arms, squealing with delight when she was lifted off her feet. "Did you miss us?"

"Maybe a little," he grinned hugging her tightly. Then shifted her in his arms to gather Olivia close, and give her a kiss.

"Did you guys have a good time?"

"Very good," Olivia smiled, hooking her arm around his waist, as Fitz carried Karen across the lawn.

"Daddy, can I have a horse?"

Fitz raised a brow at Olivia, who just smiled. Then he turned to Karen and said, "No," before kissing her nose.

"So I can have one for my birthday?"

"No."

"Christmas?"

"No."

"Daddy!"

"Pumpkin!'

She giggled then cried, "Oh look, there's Poppy!"

Fitz set her on her feet so she could go running to greet her dog, racing towards her.

Then with a soft rumble of satisfaction, Fitz wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulder and kissed her as they walked.

"Someone's happy," she teased him.

"Mmm..." He kissed her temple. "Someone has unpacked her bags and decided to stay."

"I didn't take any bags on this trip."

He chuckled softly. "I'm talking about the bags you've had ready and waiting to get out of the White House, to avoid being First Lady."

Her startled gaze clashed with his, and he grinned.

She gave a rueful smile. "You know this was never about you."

"I know."

"I love you. And the kids. Even the dogs."

"I know."

"It was always about the job. "

"I know."

"But I think I'm okay about it now."

"You think?"

"Baby steps, mister. This isn't an epiphany; it's a work-in-progress."

He stopped to cup her face and kiss her full on the mouth. "Any progress is good." Then he raised his head and said huskily, "Want a piggy back to your new incarceration complex?"

She laughed. "Yes! Let's race Baby K and Poppy!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I feel like I've lined up way too many soap boxes for this story, but the truth is – it's an addiction and there is no cure! I lurrrrrve US politics and sadly I will bombard you with errrrything I can find and misrepresent in my crash-learning of whatever the hell is going on right now or as close to right now as I can get! Hopefully I remember to include some Scandalish stuff as part of the story! **

**So there's the reference to ****_Loving v Virginia_**** 1967 (Thank you – Clio1792!) the Supreme Court case involving Mildred and Richard Loving, which overturned laws banning interracial marriage in the United States. Yes, that's only been legal since 1967!  
><strong>

**A lot of the gun stuff for the conversations was taken from the following : _Black youth gun deaths exceed US lynchings-_**** by Janell Ross in The Age on Oct 9, 2013; ****_For some blacks, gun control raises echoes of segregated past_**** by Ehab Zahriyeh in Al Jazeera America on Sep 1, 2013; ****_The Secret History of Guns_**** - by Adam Winkler in The Atlantic on Jul 24, 2011; ****_Right to Keep and Bear Arms_****- Wikipedia.**

**I also filched President Obama's gun initiatives : _Obama Gun Control Proposals Unveiled, Marking Biggest Legislative Effort In A Generation_**** - by Sam Stein and John Rudolf in Huffington Post on Jan 16, 2013 (there's a link in there that takes you to the 23 executive initiatives President Obama has already signed through. And the Guilfords were inspired by Gabrielle Gifford, but I couldn't have a white ex-Congresswoman as that would not tell the other side of the story. **

**And I had a bunch of interns doing cold-calling instead of what actually happened with Vice President Joe Biden's task force holding 22 meetings with 229 organisations over two weeks in January last year, after the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre.  
><strong>


	14. Backlash

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers- Oops, forgot disclaimer at first posting of this chapter!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>"...Presidential Piggyback is what's trending this morning. First there was the picture of him looking like a doggy bed, now we have him racing across the snow-covered South Lawn with the First Fiancee on his back. That was enough to sent Twitter into meltdown at another glimpse of the private life of our current president. But questions are being asked on Capitol Hill, is this just a distraction to keep our attention away from the real agenda - taking away our Constitutional right to keep and bear arms? Sources say there is an Executive Order on gun control being drafted as we speak..."<em>

_"...The President playing happy families is cute, very cute. I was even thinking of voting for the guy now that I know he's a dog person. But, hey, I don't care how much he loves his dogs, I'm not going let him take away my right to own a gun! Not happening! And this sure isn't the Wild West. He can't just ride on up with his posse and lay down the law in a frontier town. No way, not happening. If he wants a law on gun control, he has to pass it through Congress; he has to work on getting the numbers. The truth is, he doesn't have the numbers. Not even from his own party. So tough luck, Mr President, you can't throw a hissy fit and make your own rules, because you don't like the ones we've got..."_

_"...Is the President trying to pull a fast one - distract us with pictures of dogs and piggy back rides, when in actual fact the man is trying to invalidate one of our fundamental rights? That's the question everyone's asking around here. But is that what he's doing? From the draft details that have been leaked from the White House, the President isn't talking about taking away our rights to own a gun. He's talking about keeping guns out of the hands of our children. Out of the hands of convicted criminals and people with a history of mental illness. Now why would anyone have a problem with that?_

Fitz switched off the television in the ante-chamber and walked into the Oval Office just as Cyrus slammed his way in from the direction of Lauren's office.

"Have you lost your mind?" Cyrus glared at Fitz. "You're a first term president! You don't take an initiative like this, not unless you want to commit career suicide! You wait! You wait until you win a second term before you say fuck 'em all all to hell, I'm going to do things my way!"

"I can't wait for a second term. It may never happen. Just like the first term shouldn't have happened."

"Sir!" Cyrus hissed. "We don't even hint at that in this office!"

"But we have to consider the possibility that unless a similar backroom deal is done, I won't get a second term."

"So you're determined to lose what little hope you have and be a one term president?"

"Might not be such a bad thing. I'd like to spend more time with Olivia and the kids."

"You are spending more time with her! More time than is good for my health! I can't believe she's helping you nuke all your chances for re-election!"

"Cyrus, she's helping me be the President I've always dreamed of being. I cannot fault her for that and neither will you."

"Mr President, you are running an administration! You can't go around acting like you're the _Lone Ranger_. And that we're in another episode of the _Brady Bunch_."

"I think you mean _Arrow_ and _Modern Family_."

Cyrus looked at Fitz blankly, then his scowl became even more ferocious. "Sir, this is not a joke! You can't have Jerry encouraging kids to talk about how much they hate guns on his Facebook page! We like guns. That's our platform. The _Republican_ platform!"

"I'd like this Administration to have a different agenda to the Gun Lobby. They can't keep winning all the fights. The District of Columbia had to settle the class action suit with KKK because they didn't have the time, resources or money to keep fighting in court."

"That wasn't a win for the Gun Lobby. We kept the DC firearm restrictions in place. And we kept their guns and turned them into gardening tools."

"But we had to go easy on sentencing. As for the confiscated guns, that's a hollow victory, when gun manufacturers armed those criminals again as a publicity stunt." Fitz gave a wry grimace, which changed into a genuine smile when he added, "I think Jerry's idea is awesome, and it's working. He's had kids from all across the country get involved, and some of his classmates have already told him they'll be taping sessions in the cafeteria today."

Cyrus stared at him for a moment, then threw up his hands and stalked out of the Oval Office.

* * *

><p>He was still fuming when he nearly crashed into Olivia heading towards the Oval Office. Catching her elbow, Cyrus steered her further down the passageway, growling, "We need to talk."<p>

Her surprise turned to outrage as she stared pointedly at his grip on her arm, but Cyrus didn't let go until they were in his office with the door shut behind them, after a curt command to his secretary to hold all calls.

"Olivia," Cyrus began.

But she cut him off. "Cyrus, I do not appreciate being manhandled like that! If you want to talk, we'll talk but I will not be hauled in here like a truant child being taken to the principal's office!"

"A truant child?! Have you any idea what you've done?! That man thinks he's the next Franklin Delano Roosevelt! He's forgotten that he's a_ Republican_ President! And Republican presidents don't push social agendas! No, what we do is make people who sell weapons and oil and tobacco and stocks and bonds and every other _wealth_-generating enterprise, happy. They are the ones _we_ look after!"

Olivia took a deep breath and stepped closer to Cyrus. "Well, _we_ don't want to do that anymore. Fitz was never about that, you know he wasn't! That's why you wanted me to run his campaign, because you saw that he had heart, he had vision, he wasn't the kind of guy who would stand up there and make empty promises."

Cyrus glared at her, then he gave a weary sigh and sat down in the nearest armchair. "Do you know that Sally Langston has been meeting with Chuck and Doug Cosh, and several other bank rollers to get support for her insidious campaign to undermine Fitz. We're not talking about a bunch of crazy nerds on the Internet now, Olivia. We're talking Big Business, and if we upset those guys, and I mean _really_ upset them, you know we won't have a hope in hell of winning the next election."

Olivia stared at him for a moment, then walked over and sat on the edge of his desk.

"Cyrus, Fitz was shot. I can still hear every single bang in my head without even trying. He could have died. He nearly did." She took a deep breath. "Anything he wants to do, to make it safe so that I don't have to see him in a hospital bed, wondering if he's going to make it out of there alive…" she broke off, and stared straight ahead at the picture of Fitz hanging on the wall.

Cyrus looked at her. "How is this Executive Order going to achieve that? The guy who tried to kill him was an assassin for hire. He wasn't a registered felon or a known lunatic."

"Which is why Fitz wants to increase funding for Police and FBI cyber investigation units." Olivia left the desk, and took a seat opposite Cyrus. "This is just the first step. This Executive Order is not going to have all the answers, but it's a step in the right direction. Fitz doesn't want to sit back and wait for Congress to stall another bill. He wants to take action, and I support him on this. I really do."

"Supporting him in a vague 'good job, sweetheart' kind of way, is different to taking off in Marine One on a fact finding mission. You are not part of this administration, Olivia. You are the fiancee, and soon to be wife. That means you concern yourself with what you're going to wear today, how the flowers look and ways to make your staff run around organising little social events that lift your profile as a good little First Lady."

Olivia sat back. "That's not going to happen. I see that you've given me most of Mellie's ex-staffers to work with in the East Wing, but I am not going to fill her shoes, Cy. And I'm not going to let you squeeze me into a straight-jacket, to be as useful as a Christmas tree. Not when I was the one you used to call when you had a problem."

Cyrus looked at her owlishly. "Yes, but now _you_ are my problem. Fitz is not consulting me. This entire gun control thing happened without my knowledge. How am I supposed to do my job when you are undermining the very existence of this Administration?"

Olivia got to her feet. "I will not be a vaguely supportive ornament just because you feel your position as trusted confidante is threatened. If you want to be on Team Fitz, know that I'm part of it too."

* * *

><p>Fitz looked up from the papers on his desk when Lauren knocked and opened the door. "Sir, one of the interns would like to see you. He said his name is TJ Broadhurst."<p>

"Send him in."

Fitz stood up, coming around his desk to greet the tall, lanky intern who entered.

"TJ, I've been going through your brief. It's impressive. There are several points we agree on – all gun owners shouldn't be held responsible for the actions of the criminally-insane or just plain criminal. And I'm glad to see that you agree with stricter background checks, especially at gun shows. But the part that impressed me was where you said victims should be able to sue the gun sellers for negligence if they fail in their duty of care."

"Thank you, sir." TJ gave a small smile, looking uncomfortable.

Fitz paused, then said, "Take a seat."

They sat on the couch together, and when TJ still appeared reluctant to speak, Fitz prompted, "TJ, what's on your mind?"

"The interns here do a lot of work."

"I know. The White House couldn't function half as well without them."

"That's right. We do the work of a regular staff member, but we don't get their pay or their benefits."

"There around 300 interns like you working here, TJ, we can't afford to put all of you on the payroll. That's why we stress that this is a volunteer work-experience program. That's what you agreed to be before you arrived."

TJ looked even more uncomfortable, then he muttered, "Sir, have you heard of the Fair Pay Campaign?"

"Yes, I have heard about that. And I know more than a 100 Interns who have filed lawsuits to claim what they see as unpaid wages."

"A federal judge ruled that companies like Fox Searchlight broke labour laws by using unpaid interns, and the Lean In Foundation of Sheryl Sandberg has started a paid internship program after legal action was taken against them."

"Fox Searchlight didn't follow the six-point checklist set by the Labor Department, for employers hiring interns. Here at the White House, we don't fall under the Fair Labor Standards Act, we come under the Congressional Accountability Act as you must know, TJ, because you would have done your homework before you decided to have this conversation with me."

"Yes, sir," TJ sighed. "But the current system favours rich kids. It doesn't help the kids whose parents can't afford to rent a place in DC for three months, pay for their food, clothes, transport, or even a night out."

Fitz looked long and hard at TJ. "Doesn't your father play golf with Daniel Langston?"

TJ face turned red. "Uh, yes, sir."

"Did your father ask you to speak to me about this?"

TJ squirmed. "He, uh, supported me, sir. I think it's not fair that interns don't get paid, and Dad agrees with me. I just thought, after the weekend, now would be a good time to ask you about it, sir."

Fitz turned away, and stood up. "Leave this with me, TJ. I'll get back to you on what I can do."

"Thank you, sir," The boy said looking more relieved than when he'd arrived.

* * *

><p>Once TJ had left the room, Fitz asked Lauren to put a call through to TJ's father, Samuel Broadhurst.<p>

"Sam. It's been a long time... I'm just touching base with the parents of a few of our interns… No, no, nothing's wrong. TJ's a great kid. Thank you for letting him help us here at the White House. You know, we couldn't do half the work we do without the help of kids like him…yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The problem isn't about the ethics of paying interns. I agree they should earn a wage, at least a minimum wage, for basic living expenses but the problem is that it's going to cost between $3-4 million to pay them... Yeah, chicken feed to a guy like you, Sam, but a hefty chunk from our tax-payer funded budget… so I have a solution, but I wanted to run it by you first, see how you feel about it… "

Once Fitz finished the call, he glanced at his watch with a frown. Then leaving his seat, he walked towards Lauren's office, saying, "Lauren, can you check where—" He paused as Olivia walked through the outer doorway, "No, never mind. She's here." He grinned, as Olivia walked straight into his waiting arms.

Closing the door on Lauren's smiling face, Fitz rumbled a sigh of satisfaction as he settled his mouth on Olivia's. Then groaned when her hands smoothed over his shoulders, sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. He chuckled against her lips, biting gently. "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

"We have fifteen minutes."

"It's with the council of church elders."

"Oh." Olivia drew back.

He chuckled kissing the tip of her nose, before taking her hand and leading her behind the desk, to settle her on his lap. "I did a thing."

"Good thing or bad thing?" she asked huskily, watching his fingers unbutton her jacket.

"Good thing," Fitz mumbled against her lips as she drew close, while his hand slipped inside to cup a lace-covered breast. "I asked Samuel Broadhurst to think about being a Friend of the White House?"

"The financier? Isn't he a friend of Sally Langston's?" She moaned, as his clever fingers caressed her.

"A friend of Sally's husband. They're golf buddies," he drawled huskily, as she shifted to nibble his ear.

"And what does a Friend of the White House have to do?"

"Help the White House set up a scholarship fund to sponsor less well-off kids on internship programs. I've asked him to consider giving up $5000 a kid. And the sponsors get a table at the Governors' State Dinner."

"That's…clever, pimping out a State Dinner." She smiled, meeting his wicked gaze. Then placing her hand over his, she made him pause long enough for her to say on a serious note. "Cyrus said Sally has been meeting with the Cosh brothers, and a few other heavyweights."

"I know," Fitz leaned his head against the back of the chair.

"You need to watch her, Fitz," she said, lifting a hand to stroke his face.

He turned and kissed her palm, making her giggle as he made circles on her skin with the tip of his tongue.

Then they both jumped as the phone rang.

As Olivia quickly buttoned her jacket, Fitz reached for the phone.

"Sir, the US Attorney General is on the line and he wants to speak with you urgently," Lauren said, calmly.

Fitz sighed and asked her to be the call through. Then sat back as Olivia straightened his tie and smoothed down his hair, but when she went to stand, he held on to her, just as the attorney general said, "Sir, we have a problem. A federal court in the state of Georgia has issued a Temporary Restraining Order against the issue of any and all Executive Orders on gun control."

"We didn't have any warning?"

"No, sir. The complaint filed by a local chapter of the Gun Lobby, and it looks like they have powerful friends in the area."

Olivia pressed her ear to the receiver as Fitz asked tersely, "Who's representing us down there?"

"Patrick Dent. He's the federal prosecutor assigned to the case. That's not good, sir, we've heard rumours that he's sympathetic to gun rights advocacy groups, and he's not afraid to be seen supporting them."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there really is an issue of unpaid internships which apparently was in the news last year. You can read about it in ****_Should White House Interns Be Paid?_**** By Nathan Parcells written in FedSmith on Oct 28, 2013; ****_Cost to pay White House interns: $2.5 million_**** by Emily Jane Fox, CNN Money on Aug 21, 2013. And I thought I'd throw that issue in there like I was making a stew with everything that's left in the 'fridge. ;))))**

**The information on a temporary restraining order (TRO) was mashed and (probably inaccurately) used in this story from info gathered off Wikipedia, on ****_Injunction_**** and ****_Preliminary Injunction_****. **

**And THANK YOU again, to those still reading this story and leaving your encouraging comments, I really REALLY appreciate it !**


	15. Hunt and Prey

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"So what do we know about Patrick Dent?" Olivia asked the OPA, sitting in the Gulfstream that Fitz had organised to fly them to Georgia.<p>

"He likes to hunt," said Quinn, turning her laptop around to show a series of photographs taken of a large man with sunburnt skin, grinning into the camera. "Ducks, geese, moose, deer, an elephant, a couple of lions—"

"Hey, is that even legal?" Harrison looked disgusted.

"Yeah, it is in some countries, like South Africa. They call it controlled hunting," Huck said grimly.

"Okay, enough with the dead animals... We know he's married with two kids, but he has a weakness," Abby said with a sly smirk. "David's source sang like a bird, and you'll never guess what this man is into."

"Wait, David Rosen? Are you back with him?" Harrison frowned.

Abby shrugged. "Yeah. We went on a date last night. It was okay. So you know…" She shrugged again.

"She went on a date just to get information from him," Quinn said with a grimace.

"No, I didn't, Lindsay. It's none of your beeswax why I see David," Abby glared at her.

"Getting back to Patrick Dent, what's his weakness – hookers?" Olivia asked. "Gambling? Drink? Drugs? What?"

"No, he likes cross-dressing, and getting spanked by men in tight leather pants," Quinn grinned, looking at Harrison and Huck.

"Wait? What? Why are you looking at the two of us?" Harrison scowled.

"Because it can't be us," Abby gestured at the three women. "He doesn't get turned on by women in tight pants. So it'll have to be you."

"We wore dresses. We can do leather pants," Huck said, solemnly.

Harrison shook his head. "Look, man, I don't do shit like this. It's not why I went to law school." He looked at Olivia. "We need to focus on the judge. Why aren't we focusing on the judge?"

Olivia leaned back in the soft leather seat. "Judge Claudette Liston was appointed by Fitz, and she's a relative of Antoinette Tuff the school clerk who prevented a mass shooting in a school near Atlanta, Georgia."

"Yeah, I heard about that, this was at.." Harrison snapped his fingers, trying to recall details.

"At the Ronald E McNair Discovery Learning Academy in Decatur, Georgia," Olivia supplied. "She talked the gunman into giving up his AK-47 assault rifle and other weapons."

"Yeah, she talked to the guy for an hour. Enough time for the school to evacuate 870 kids."

"Oh, I remember, it happened in August, right?" Quinn frowned. "But it didn't make the media rounds as much."

"As much as if the shooter, the _potential _shooter, had actually killed those kids," Abby shook her head in disgust.

"The shooter, Michael Hill, was off his meds," Olivia said, "Because his Medicaid had expired." Then she paused as Agent Tom walked up to their conference table.

"Ma'am, we'll be landing shortly. And the President wants to talk to you." He extended a mobile phone to Olivia.

"Thank you, Tom." Olivia took the phone, moving away from the OPA, past the retinue of Secret Service agents accompanying them on the trip, to get some privacy.

"Hi," she smiled. "You have to stop worrying about me."

"I always worry about you."

"I'll be safe with the army you've sent to protect me."

"Six agents don't make an army, Liv, but you're not to go anywhere without Tom. I've made that clear to him."

"Okay, tough guy, I won't get Tom in trouble," she chuckled. "What about Judge Liston?"

"I've contacted an ex-Navy buddy of mine, a state senator. He's sending people from his own security team to guard the Judge. The Sherriff's department is not involved." Fitz paused, making rustling noises in the background. "And the Executive Order is ready to go. I'll be signing it the instant you let us know of the court's decision."

"I'll let you know the second the Judge gives her ruling, if she decides in our favour. She may not, Fitz, and even if she did, the other side may have the appeal ready to be filed in the 11th Circuit Court."

"I'm ready for that too. So is the US Attorney General," Fitz paused, then added softly "…. I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"But you're enjoying this."

"Yes…" She rested her head against the cabin panelling. "Thank you for letting me do this."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>Ex-Navy Seal commander and Senator Lucas Zeke sat across from Olivia and Tom in one of the armoured vehicles that had arrived to collect them from the airport. He was smiling - his white teeth brilliant against his ebony skin, his eye patch rakishly attractive - as he spoke to Olivia about Fitz.<p>

"Yeah, Fitz and I used to shoot hoops back in the day. He beat my ass once or twice. Not bad for a white flyboy - you can tell him I said that. And that I've been waiting a helluva long time for that invite to play b-ball game at the White House. And you can tell him I ain't about to go easy on him, just because he's Commander-in-Chief!"

Olivia chuckled. "I'll tell him."

"Oh, I see why Fitzgerald Grant wants to keep you on a short leash, Ms Pope. Even with my one good eye, I can see you're a fine-looking woman." Hearing Tom clear his throat, the Senator gave a hearty chuckle. "No, need to get all worked up about that, son. I'm just stating facts. Though I gotta say I would never have imagined Fitz with a sister."

'Why?" Olivia asked, her curiosity overcoming her caution.

"His old man wrote the rulebook on how Fitz had to live his life; laid down the law right down to the woman Fitz had to marry - she had to be 'presentable' if you get what I'm saying. And Fitz got tired of fighting back." The Senator was quiet for a moment, then he turned with his grin firmly in place. "But it sure is good to see my man step out of the shadows and be his own boss. That's the guy I knew on active duty; the guy who did the right thing, even if it wasn't the exactly lawful at the time."

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"There sure is but if I tell you, I'd have to marry you – you know because a wife can't testify against her husband. I don't have a problem with that, I kind of like the idea of waking up to your gorgeousness every morning but," And he grinned as Tom glared at him, "Yeah, I'm thinking if this agent here doesn't shoot me, Fitz surely will. You still wanna hear the story?"

Olivia shook her head, warming to the Senator, unfazed by his flirting, but they needed to talk business. "Senator Zeke, about Judge Liston—"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about Judge Liston. I've got my best men guarding her like she's been dipped in gold and rolled in diamonds. Ain't nobody going to get past my men. Now I heard your crew talking about a plan to take down that bastard Dent."

"We hear he has very kinky habits after hours."

The Senator chuckled. "That's one way of putting it. He's one sick, c*cksucker, and that's telling it straight if you get my meaning. You want to take him down, I'll be glad to help – he's a mean son of b*tch!"

"We don't have a lot of time, Senator. The hearing is tomorrow morning"

"Oh we'll be fine. I hear the party starts at his place around seven most nights, after his missus takes their two girls to dance or singing or whatever hell class these folk inflict on them kids," The Senator shook his head, then looked at Olivia with an incisive gaze. "Was I right in thinking I heard your people mention the word 'surveillance'?"

"Yes. We want to get him on tape."

"Well if you've got the equipment, I can help get you inside his house. We'll just cut the lights and send your team in to fix up the place."

* * *

><p>"I gotta say, I liked wearing the Georgia Power uniform to dancing around in tight leather pants," Harrison muttered as they sat waiting in the Senator's study, facing a big screen TV to which Huck's laptop was connected.<p>

"Yes, the fake power company badge and fake utility truck were a nice touch," Huck grinned.

"Hey, those were the real deal," the Senator said, "'Coz, I know people who know people. But hold on, let's get back to the tight leather pants," Senator Zeke looked Harrison up and down. "I didn't know that was Plan A. Sure sounds more entertaining than Plan B."

"I know, right?" Quinn said.

"There's the wife and kids leaving," Abby said, looking at the multi-view boxes on the screen. "I can't believe the man just let you walk into his house and fit these cameras everywhere."

"We told him we were checking for dim or flickering lights after the power outage," Huck said.

"Yeah, we didn't want him to get electrocuted," Harrison grinned, as they watched the federal prosecutor go around the house drawing closed all the curtains.

"A bowl of popcorn would be good right about now," Olivia sighed.

"You want popcorn? We got popcorn," The Senator's assistant, Oscar, spoke up from the back. "Yeah, what kind of toppings you want? Caramel? Cheese and chilli? Cinnamon spice? Kettle? Wasabi?"

"I'll take Kettle," said Tom.

"Wasabi," said another agent.

Twenty minutes later they were all seated with bowls of popcorn coated with their toppings of choice, waiting for the fun to begin.

"He's going to the bedroom," Quinn sat forward. "Quick, zoom in."

Huck clicked on the bedroom view, enlarging it on the screen.

"Ok, showtime…" Harrison grinned taking in a mouthful of popcorn, then nearly spat them all out as the man on screen stripped naked.

"That's disgusting," Quinn said, munching quickly, staring with her eyes wide open.

"Is that…is he putting on a thong?" Abby asked looked from the corner of her eye with a thoroughly disgusted expression.

"You have a problem with the thong, but not the French maid's uniform?" Harrison frowned.

Just then, Olivia's phone pinged and she looked at the text message, smiling when she saw the sender's ID. "Uh, excuse me, I need to take this."

She existed amid a flurry of vague and distracted 'okay', 'uh-huh', 'sure', 'yep' by people whose eyes were glued to the screen. All except for Tom, who followed her out.

"Oh, you can stay and watch, Tom."

"I'd rather not, ma'am."

* * *

><p>Olivia raced up the curving wooden staircase to the second floor guest bedroom that she had to herself. The others, including Tom and the agents had been forced to share.<p>

As she quickly grasped the door handle, Tom stopped her. He went in to inspect the room once again, before letting her enter; then told her he'd be waiting outside as he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Feeling a sudden rush of deep longing, Olivia kicked off her shoes and curled up on the bed, as she speed-dialled.

"Are you naked?" she asked when Fitz answered the phone.

He laughed, then lowered his voice to a sexy rumble. "No, are you?"

"Nope," she sighed, closing her eyes, dragging a pillow towards her. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. More than you can imagine," he said in a low sexy voice that send shivers over her skin, making her melt and hug the pillow tighter. They were quiet for a long, long moment, then he asked softly, "What were you doing when I sent you the text?"

"We were watching the Patrick Dent peep-show. I think I need to get Senator Zeke on my team, he is a very resourceful guy."

"Yep. He's the guy you want to have around when you're life is on the line."

"So what's the story with the two of you? He wouldn't tell me. Said he'd have to marry me if he did - spousal privilege."

"Zeke said he'd have to marry you?" Fitz chuckled.

"See, I knew it!"

"What?"

"He's gay."

"Wow," Fitz sounded surprised. "How do you know?"

"Oscar knows where the popcorn is."

Fitz laughed. "That's it? Oscar is his assistant, probably has personal shopper duties on the side."

"Am I wrong?"

Fitz didn't respond immediately, when he did it was after a long sigh. "No, you're not, but this has to be our secret."

"So did you and he ever…?"

"What? No! Oscar and Zeke have been together for nearly thirty years. Zeke was Oscar's commanding officer." Then Fitz asked with a smile in his voice, "Liv, you have doubts about my sexuality?"

"I'm just wondering if you… experimented?"

"No, I'm not Zeke's type. And my type, my one and only type, is a very beautiful, brilliant, sassy woman who's having some really kinky thoughts right now."

"I'm horny," she admitted, prompting a husky laugh from him.

"Have you unpacked?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"Check your bag. I put something in there for you."

Olivia scrambled off the bed and quickly knelt on the floor to open her suitcase. She dug through her clothes until she touched a large gift-wrapped box at the bottom of the case.

"Wow, it's a big box."

"Open it."

Tearing the wrapping, she chuckled seeing an enlarged publicity shot of Fitz. Underneath the photograph was a sex toy kit, which made her howl with laughter, instantly getting a reaction. From Tom.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" he said, bursting into the room.

"Yes!" Olivia gasped, thrusting the box behind her back.

Tom narrowed his gaze, flicking it from her face to the package barely concealed behind her, before saying blandly, "I'll be outside."

"Thank you, Tom."

After the door had closed behind him, Olivia hissed in a delighted whisper, "You got me a vibrator?"

"Not '_a'_ vibrator," Fitz hissed back. "That's a deluxe multi-pack, top of the range."

Olivia doubled up laughing, all the while trying to do it quietly.

"Hey, quit laughing. Do you know how impossible it is for the President of the United States to get a vibrator on same day delivery? I had to pretend to be Morris. Had it delivered to his house, then he had to smuggle it in his pitbull's doggy basket so the Secret Service wouldn't check it out."

"Oh gawd, Morris knows!" Olivia gasped between giggles.

"Hey, I'm the one he winked at when he handed over the package."

Olivia stuffed a sweater into her mouth to stop herself from screaming with laughter, but couldn't stop the tears running down her face.

"Livvie… Liv… Olivia… Hey…!"

Olivia sat up, pushing the sweater away and wiping the tears from her face. "I love you, Fitzgerald Grant the Third. I love you so much, I'm going to kiss your Mona Lisa smile face." She smacked a loud kiss on the photograph.

"I love you too, baby." He made a kissy noise over the phone, adding cheekily, "You want to try them out? I put battery packs in there too."

"You want me to try them out, with you on the phone?"

He gave a soft grunt that sent her off on another round of giggles.

"I'll join you," he whispered, "With my deluxe hand-job."

She snuffled a laugh, feeling aroused, cherished, happy and sad all at once, staring at his photograph as he rumbled a sigh in her ear.

"Let's do it," she whispered, then gasped, shoving the box quickly back into her suitcase, when Tom knocked on the door, calling out, "Ma'am. You're needed downstairs. There's an emergency."

"Fitz..." she groaned.

"I heard, baby. Call me when you know what's going on."

* * *

><p>As Olivia hurried downstairs with Tom following at her heels, they were met on the landing by a worried-looking Senator Zeke.<p>

"Ms Pope, I just got word from my men that Judge Liston's 11-year-old grand-daughter is missing. And from what we heard on the surveillance audio, it looks like Patrick Dent is involved."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:So I thought I'd introduce a Navy buddy as different as I could make him from Joke with no possibility of a ridiculous triangular (non) relationship. Hence, Zeke. And I'm being fast and loose with convention (as in ignoring it entirely) by deciding that a state Senator in Georgia could keep his sexual orientation a secret, without the cover of a wife.  
><strong>

**Other liberties! So I made up a Federal Judge relative for real-life heroine Antoinette Tuff because I really wanted to mention this brave woman's incredible actions in this story. **

**Other than what she actually did talking to that gunman after he took her hostage, everything else is not true. There is no Claudette Liston in real life (at least I hope not)! You can read about Ms Tuff on****_: Antoinette Tuff: Meet the Woman Who Prevented a Mass School Shooting Yesterday_**** by Rachel George published in PolicyMic on Aug 21, 2013 and ****_The heroism of Antoinette Tuff reveals what's missing from politics_**** by Gary Younge in The Guardian on Aug 26, 2013**

**Also I'm using Scandal Pace for events happening at the speed of light, instead of the speed of reality, and I got the idea of a power masquerade after reading this story : ****_Brookhaven authorities warn of fake Georgia Power worker_**** - By Doug Evans, FOX 5 reporter, on Foxatlanta on Jan 18, 2014**

**Also in the telling of this story I may put Fitz and Co. through a zillion ethics violations through sheer ignorance, rather than intent! And I don't think that executive orders are signed with such stealth or drama...?!  
><strong>

**BTW, I'm really touched that some of these social issue plot-lines resonate with you. Thank you for letting me know. And thank you to DayDreamLover for the shoutout in her story: _Up Close and Personal._ :))))))**


	16. Pawns in the Game

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"That's where we got coitus interruptus," Quinn said, as Huck rewound the recording.<p>

When Huck hit play, they all heard a heaving, groaning, swearing Dent telling the man giving his backside a workout in more ways than one, to stop as a phone started to ring.

"I gotta get this," Dent gasped, reaching for his cell phone on the night-table.

"Now?" His partner sounded offended. "I'm nearly done."

"It's important. Work."

"Fine!" The man slapped Dent's rump one last time and pulled out. "You want me to hang around?"

"Nah, we'll have an extra-long session tomorrow. I want to get my money's worth."

"You always do, hun." The man grinned cheekily. "Give my regards to the wife-!"

The man barely had time to finish his sentence before he was sent flying across the room, to crash into the wall. He looked visibly shocked as he sat up, clutching his face.

"You leave my wife out of this!" Dent ground out, coming to stand over the fallen man, his fist raised.

"Hey, cool it, man! It was just a joke!"

Dent drew his arm back, but paused when the other man said, "Shouldn't you answer your phone, it hasn't stopped ringing."

Dent dropped his arm, but not the scowl on his face. "If word gets out about any of this, you're dead! I mean that! Now get the hell out of my house."

Hearing that last part of the recording, Senator Zeke gritted his teeth, "Nasty assed bastard."

They watched as the man on the floor quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Then Dent walked back to the bed and sat down. He took a deep breath, let it out and finally answered his phone.

"Yeah, I know. I was in the middle of something. Everything go to plan? Call the bitch at midnight, and every couple of hours after that; make sure she doesn't get any sleep... Yeah, make the kid scream… heck, I don't know, slap her, punch her. Figure it out. Call me if there's a problem. And make sure the kid's tied up. Because I don't want her running away if there's another brown out... Right, yeah, forgot about that, you guys don't have power over there. How are the camp lights working? Yeah, good. I had a couple of Georgia Power techies checking on faults at my place. No, I didn't take down their badge numbers, Jeeze, don't get so paranoid. Look I gotta go, my wife and kids will be home soon, and I, uh, have to finish up some things before they get here."

Huck stopped the recording. "We need that phone."

Oscar looked at Zeke. "It's time for Plan C."

* * *

><p>"These guys are good," Harrison murmured, watching barely detectable shadows move through the shrubbery.<p>

"Professionals; military training," Huck muttered, as he and Harrison waited in an unmarked van, parked across the street from Patrick Dent's house. There was a second van waiting in a back street, with its lights turned off but its engine running.

Harrison's response was interrupted by a voice announcing over the radio transmitter, "We're going in, sir."

Then they heard Zeke respond, "The target is unarmed, in the shower. North East corner of the house. Entry through the bedroom."

Back at his stately home, Zeke, Olivia and Tom were in a bunker beneath Zeke's garage. The cavernous space was set up to be an operations centre and Zeke was watching a cinema-sized flat screen showing the interior of Dent's home, while Olivia paced the floor, her arms folded across her chest.

In the background, Tom stood against a wall, studying the bunker with an impassive interest. Then his attention shifted to the screen where a dark figure had just entered the Dent bedroom, followed by a handful of others. The new arrivals were all dressed in black, wearing masks and carrying guns.

Two of the men rushed into the en suite and minutes later came out dragging an unconscious, naked Dent between them. The others quickly threw a blanket over the naked man, bundling him up and carrying him out.

"Don't forget the phone," Zeke said into his mouthpiece.

A masked figure re-entered the bedroom, picked up the phone on the night-table and cleared out.

"Wow. That was fast," Olivia said in awe.

Zeke grinned, getting to his feet. "Now, the real fun begins."

* * *

><p>As the black van carrying Dent drove past their parked vehicle, Harrison read out the number of the last incoming call on Dent's cell phone.<p>

Huck typed it into his laptop, then said grimly, "The location is showing up as south downtown. Intersection of Forsyth and Alabama streets, but it looks like a built-up area."

"In other words, we'll take forever to find this kid," Harrison muttered.

"I think I know where we need to start looking." Oscar turned to the men in masks. "You guys agree?"

"The old Atlanta Constitutional Building," one of the men said. "It's been vacant for over 40 years."

Another man shook his head. "But there's always people around; kids with spray cans, vagrants, junkies, you name it."

"The fire last March caused a lot of damage and it was in pretty bad shape to start with."

Huck and Harrison looked at each other. "Let's check it out. The name is too much of a coincidence."

Oscar nodded, moving up into the driver's seat, while Harrison put a call through on his cell phone. "We're heading downtown. Sure you're okay waiting out here on your own?"

"Yep," Abby responded. "We're dealing with a mother and her kids."

"Armed militia might give them nightmares," Quinn agreed.

* * *

><p>A short while later, a silver Toyota Camry pulled into the driveway, and a lady in leggings and a duffle coat, hopped out of the car followed by two little girls with their tutus showing under their parkas.<p>

"Okay, that's them. Let's go." Abby and Quinn quickly exited the rental vehicle and walked up to the house.

"Mrs Dent?" Quinn asked with a cheerful smile.

"Yes. Do I know you?" Mrs Dent looked over quizzically, drawing the two girls close to her.

"No, Ma'am. But we're here to talk about your husband's case," Abby said, affecting a thick southern accent, which had Quinn looking at her strangely.

"His case tomorrow with the black judge?"

There was a moment of silence, then Abby said brightly, "Yes, ma'am. There's been, uh, a new development."

"Oh, Pat's not going to like that. He's been trying to get the better of that judge for years. You better come inside and speak to him."

Mrs Dent opened the front door, ushering her daughters inside, calling out for her husband. When she didn't get a response, she said, "That's strange. He didn't say he was going out. Did he, girls?"

The two little girls shook their heads in unison.

Mrs Dent scrolled through her phone, then sighed. "Look, I'm sure he'll be back soon. But if you don't want to wait, I'll give him your message, and he can contact you after he gets back."

Quinn took a CD case out of her shoulder bag. "This has all the information." She smiled brightly at Mrs Dent. "I'd recommend that you have a look through it before your husband gets home, but not with your kids. It's not PG-rated."

Mrs Dent's eyes widened. "You've got a sex tape on the Judge?"

"Just have a look, it will surprise you," Abby said, taking hold of Quinn's arm. "We should get going. We'll see ourselves out."

"And we'll be in touch," Quinn said, waving and smiling at the kids as they departed.

* * *

><p>Dent woke up to find himself still naked, tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground. He looked around the stark concrete cell, lit by a bright fluorescent tube, with its only exit barred by a metal door.<p>

"Ah, Mr Dent, you're awake," a distorted, tinny voice came over a sound system. "How are you feeling?"

Dent jerked his head, trying to find out where the sound was coming from. After a fruitless search, he yanked at the ropes tying him to the chair.

"Cat got your tongue, Dent? You're not usually this quiet in court. And I wouldn't bother trying to get free. Those knots will only get tighter the more you struggle."

That prompted an explosive, "_Who the fuck are you people?! And where the hell am I?!"_

"Mr Dent, you are in a safe place and we just want to ask you a few questions. About the little girl you kidnapped."

Instantly Dent stopped struggling. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Your face tells me you're lying, Dent."

"I didn't kidnap any little girl!"

"No, but you know who did. And we want names, Mr Dent."

"I ain't giving you no names. I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"I see this is going to be a very long night, Mr Dent. And a very uncomfortable one for you."

* * *

><p>There were a couple of men in police uniforms standing by the entrance to the derelict five-story building,<p>

"The police are in on this?" Harrison raised a brow.

"Or they could be men in police uniforms to keep the vandals and junkies away," Oscar said noncommittally, looking at the looming building shrouded in darkness. "A couple of those floors have boarded windows… And it looks like there's a chink of light coming from that window on the third floor?"

"Could be," One of the men, squinted.

Another man looked through the night-vision scope on his rifle and grunted. "Yep, that's a light all right."

Oscar looked at each individual in the vehicle. "Okay, so here's the plan…"

* * *

><p>"Anything?"<p>

"No," Olivia sighed into the phone. "Dent isn't saying much, other than a lot of cursing. But we may have a lead. My guys and Zeke's team are on to it."

"And you're staying safe?"

"Yes, and Tom hasn't left my side." Olivia glanced over her shoulder to where Tom was hovering at a discreet distance. Beyond him were a couple of Zeke's men, in addition to Quinn and Abby.

Dent was in a single concrete cell at the far end of the chamber, and everyone was watching him on a bank of monitors, with Zeke talking to him via a modified, synoptic microphone. There was another microphone in front of the empty chair, she had just vacated.

"I don't like how this is working out," Fitz muttered in Olivia's ear. "I'm making arrangements to fly over. I should be there in a few hours."

Olivia moved further out of earshot, and hissed, "No, Fitz, you can't be here. And I'm not just talking about leaving the kids alone this time."

"Livvie, this is not a negotiation."

"Fitz, if the verdict goes against us, it would look bad for you; coming down here to get a slap in the face. The Gun Lobby would love it, but your pollsters won't.

"And if the verdict does go our way, we don't want people saying your presence influenced the judge," Olivia paused, "Zeke and I will be there in the public gallery tomorrow morning whatever happens tonight. I'll keep you updated on what's going on. Minute by minute."

"Be safe."

"I will. You know, I will. "

* * *

><p>Harrison staggered up to the two police officers guarding the entrance of Atlanta Constitutional, carrying Oscar slumped over his shoulder. "Help!" he gasped. "You gotta help me! I've been mugged. They stole my car, and my friend's hurt."<p>

"Call the police," One of the men said, not budging an inch.

"Ain't you the police?"

The uniforms looked at each other. Then one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at Harrison. "Get out of here! Go on, git! Or I'll shoot you in the face!"

"Whoa!" Harrison took a step back. "Look man, I'm not here to create trouble. I don't have my car, my friend's hurt and we need help. Can I put him down? I just need to put him down. And maybe one of you guys knows CPR? It's part of your training, right?"

Again the men looked at each other, then the one holding the weapon came forward. "Listen, shitface! I can shoot you both dead right now and problem solved!"

In the background, black shadows crept up behind the other uniformed man, coshed him on the head and silently dragged him away.

Harrison frowned at the man holding the gun. "Hey, man. This is police brutality. When I get outta here, you can be sure that I'll be filing a complaint."

"You do that, asshole! We're from the Seventh Precinct of Hell! Make sure you get our badge numbers 666!" The man laughed, raising his gun.

"Now!" The prone Oscar suddenly launched himself at Harrison, pushing him out of the way just as a bullet hit the ground.

The move surprised the shooter, long enough for his weapon to be kicked out of his hand and for him to be knocked unconscious to the ground.

"Okay," said Oscar, helping Harrison to his feet. "These guys aren't cops. They didn't radio for help."

"There's a prison tattoo on this one's arm," said another of his team, in the process of tying the unconscious man up, after removing his weapon and searching to make sure there weren't any more.

"That tells us who we're dealing with - Dent's pack of losers."

* * *

><p>Huck had no problem keeping up with the men who'd opted to climb the side of the building and in through a broken window.<p>

He followed the men, making their way carefully over the refuse scattered concrete floor; their figures blending into the darkness of spray-painted walls; feeling their way down the junk strewn concrete steps that smelt of urine and decay.

They heard voices raised in agitation echoing around the empty rooms and corridors, as they got closer to the third floor edging towards the glow of light coming from one of the doorways.

"Why the fuck isn't he answering his damn phone?! Dent, you fuck, answer the damn phone!"

"Calm down! The burger bag is working, she's breathing normal."

"She may be breathing but she ain't opened her eyes! And I'm not going down for murder if this kid dies!"

"Dent has got our back. We have nothing to worry about, he said so."

"You trust that asshole?! He'd have us on Death Row in a heartbeat. Fuck! That's it. I'm outta here!"

There was a ping, and a sudden crash.

"Jeez, man, why'd you shoot him?"

"No loose ends, those were Dent's orders. The same goes for the kid. She saw my face. And I ain't taking a chance on Dent saving my ass. Three strikes and they throw away the key."

"You tell Dent about this?"

"I'm gonna make it look an accident, after the verdict is in."

"And what do we do with Vic?'

"Drag him into that corner. Take off his suit, leave the pants, and cover him with trash. When they find him, he'll look like any other junkie - not pretty, after the rats get to him."

"What about the kid? You gonna leave her here too?"

"Nah, she goes in the Dumpster; when the time's right."

There were sounds of dragging. Then conversation came to an abrupt halt when one of Zeke's men picked up a soda can and sent it clattering down the concrete steps.

"Looks like those pesky kids have come back. I'll take care of them."

"Don't forget the hood."

"Oh, yeah."

The waiting men pressed against the wall as a short, hooded figure dressed in white, strode out of the room.

He'd barely gone a couple of steps into the shadows before his body crumpled to the ground without a sound.

* * *

><p>"That didn't take long," The bald man with a tattoo on his neck said in surprise as the white hooded figure returned; his face was lit by the light from several portable camping lanterns placed around the room. "How did you scare them off? I didn't hear anything."<p>

His only response he got was a tranquiliser dart that felt like a pinprick as it embedded in his neck. Then as his body fell to the ground, his attacker pulled off his hood and hurried towards the little girl tied up and semi-conscious on a filthy, stinking mattress.

Huck picked up the little girl, saying in an urgent voice, "She's alive, but she needs a doctor."

As the child was rushed out the room, a team member called Zeke.

"Inform the Judge's security detail, sir, we've got her. Have the parents meet us in Emergency at Grady Memorial."

* * *

><p>"Mr Dent, you'll be pleased to know that we have no choice but to let you go."<p>

Dent immediately stopped struggling, and looked at the metal door suspiciously. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked in a voice that was hoarse with cursing.

"No, Mr Dent, we're releasing you."

"You're letting me go? Free? What about the kid?"

"The Judge has received an assurance that the child will be unharmed if she finds in favour of the plaintiff's motion. The judge intends to do the right thing for the safety of that child."

"Huh… So you're letting me go?"

"Yes, Mr Dent, we are letting you go. We understand you've got a big day tomorrow in court. You'll need to get some rest. "

Dent sat up. "I need clothes."

* * *

><p>An hour later, Dent walked up to his front door, dressed in a Klansman outfit that smelt of stale cigarette smoke and beer.<p>

He pressed the doorbell. No one answered. He yelled out his wife's name. She didn't respond. He was about to go around back, when he noticed that the front door was not shut tight. Concerned, he pushed it open and rushed in; finding the house neat, tidy and empty.

He made his way back to the kitchen, noticing something he had missed the first time he'd rushed through – a raw chicken on the counter, with a knife stabbed in its back, and a note stuck to the knife handle which said, 'You SICK bastard - You'll be hearing from my lawyers in the morning - Don't even THINK of getting custody of MY children'

* * *

><p>Dawn was breaking when a tired and weary group of men filed out of a van parked in Zeke's garage, and made their way down to the operation centre.<p>

They lined up in a row, taking off their masks, revealing faces that were African, Anglo, Latino and Asian.

"Olivia," said Zeke, leading her towards the group with the intention of introducing each and every one of the men by their name and military rank. "I'd like you to meet my Rainbow Justice volunteers."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And progressing towards my usual tall tales and unbelievable situations – heh, heh (they're a lot of fun to write!). We have the Rainbow Justice crew. A nod to the Winter Olympics in non-Rainbow Russia.  
><strong>

**I also have to say that I couldn't pass up the chance to include the Atlanta Constitution Building (named after a newspaper, and not known as anything else, even after Georgia Power company occupied it according to Wikipedia). I saw the interior of the building thanks to a couple of derelict building hunters (calling themselves 'Decay is Heading Your Way') on Youtube.**

**Also had to Google the name of the nearest hospital – is this accurate? And what are the traffic conditions like? I have no idea!**

**And I know that a lot of crimes in stories are done by masterminds, but I thought I'd focus on the non-masterminds. **


	17. Judgement Day

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Breaking News from XYZ newsdesk in Atlanta, Georgia…<p>

_"Ms Olivia Pope, the fiancée of President Fitzgerald Grant made a surprise appearance in court today, in the company of State Senator Lucas Zeke. It has been reported that Ms Pope is staying as a personal guest at the Senator's residence. Many of our regular viewers will know that Senator Zeke has been a key proponent of tighter gun control legislation for convicted criminals. But his initiatives have few supporters. There is speculation that Ms Pope's public appearance with Senator Zeke is a signal that the senator intends to pursue higher office in the coming months. Over to you, Sam."_

_"Thank you, Lacey, but it's not just convicted criminals that the Senator has been targeting. Isn't he also trying to have licenses revoked if a person is known to be involved with a hate group?"_

_"Yes, Senator Zeke has made no secret of the fact that he's against what he calls the stock-piling of deadly weapons by people who see hate as their calling. His detractors say that kind of legislation would lead to a witch hunt, and there are fears that people will be discriminated from owning guns on the mere suspicion of belonging to a hate group, when all they may have done is yell a racial slur in the heat of the moment. Sam…"_

_"Yes, a very concerning prospect indeed. Thank you, Lacey. Now to other news…. _

Fitz switched off the television. Then adjusted his tie, picked up his jacket, and headed for the door. Opening it, just as Rowan Pope was preparing to knock.

For a moment, both men stood frozen in place, then Fitz offered a cautious smile. "Mr Pope. Settled in okay?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Grant. And under the circumstances, I would think it's advisable that we drop the formalities. You can call me Rowan."

Fitz bit back a smile at the implied honour and extended his hand, "Pleased to meet you, Rowan. I'm Fitz."

Rowan raised a brow looking from Fitz to his hand, then back again. "Ah, I see where your son gets his deviant attitude. Where are the children? Are they in Georgia with my daughter who is doing her best to avoid me?"

Fitz dropped his hand. "Olivia is working, unofficially, on a matter of national interest. The timing wasn't great but it's important. And I trust her to get the job done quickly and safely. I want it to be over soon too, because I miss her."

Rowan's stony expression softened as he fell into step beside Fitz, walking along the central hallway on the second floor of the residence.

Seeing the expression, Fitz proffered an olive branch. "But I'm sure she regrets not being here."

"Oh, I'm sure she does not," Rowan said pleasantly.

"How is Felicia?"

"Unpacking. I see you have acquired quite a menagerie since the last time we were here."

"Yes, the kids have always wanted a dog."

"So you gave them four. Yes, I can see the logic in that. Of course, I would never let one of those flea-ridden mutts inside my house. No matter how well Olivia pleaded her case to have a pet, and let me tell you, she was very good at presenting her arguments."

Fitz tried to ignore the twinge of dislike that surfaced. "Olivia is a very loving woman. I would imagine that even as a child, she would have wanted a pet to lavish affection, and receive it in return."

"I knew it would be a harsh world out there for my child. I could not allow a smelly furball to distract my daughter from the realities she would face. Her mother had a difficult enough time as it was."

"Rowan, I'm not about teaching the people I love about harsh realities, they'll learn about them soon enough. I want them to be happy. I hope you can tolerate that, even if you can't bring yourself to understand it."

They walked several steps in total silence, then Rowan said, "I have decided to accept your offer to stay at the White House."

"About that; Olivia was not happy that I hadn't discussed this with her first."

Unexpectedly, Rowan smiled. "But now you have, it's all fine, yes? Good. So Felicia and I will stay."

"Great," Fitz said, gloomily, as they parted ways on the stair landing.

* * *

><p>Olivia looked around the courtroom, which had started filling up after she and Zeke had taken their seats. Olivia had already allowed a reporter to approach - after Tom and a couple of other agents had tried to block access - but all the reporter had wanted was the name of the designers for her navy blue peplum jacket and charcoal pants. Olivia had given the names, and smilingly accepted the subsequent compliment with a graceful 'thank you'.<p>

"Nice." Senator Zeke chuckled. "Now all you have to do is practice your queenly wave."

"Funny, funny man." Olivia smiled, glancing down the aisle to see Harrison and Abby making their way around protruding knees and feet, carrying bottled water from the vending machine. They'd just taken their seats beside her, alongside Huck and Quinn, when a hush fell over the room as the court clerk came in and asked everyone to rise.

Olivia watched Judge Claudette Liston enter, a short, plump woman with a weary expression. She knew the judge had been up most of the night, waiting for updates on her grand-daughter, who was now safe at home, being guarded by men from Zeke's team. The judge had also been informed that Senator Zeke had spoken to the hospital chief in confidence, to have the child registered as a Jane Doe for her safety.

Judge Liston looked around the courtroom, her gaze resting for the briefest of moments on Senator Zeke and Olivia before moving on. "Go ahead and be seated. My, my, I wasn't expecting such a turn-out today for this hearing. I must say it's refreshing to see y'all take such an interest in matters of law. So are we ready to begin?" Hardly waiting for a response, she added, "So we're going to decide on this petition for a preliminary injunction in the case of The Guns for Freedom Alliance v Fitzgerald Grant III. Please state your appearances for the record."

The petitioners' legal team introduced themselves, followed by US Attorney Patrick Dent for the Government, who looked sickly and disorganised in his rumpled suit and messy tie.

Judge Liston then informed the lawyers present that she had read their briefs, as well as the draft executive order presented as evidence. "Y'all don't need to repeat yourselves in court today, but for the benefit of all everyone else here, I'll summarise the arguments. The petitioners want to stop the President from signing his executive order on gun safety, as it violates their Constitutional rights under the Second Amendment. Is this correct?"

The plaintiffs' legal team assented.

"And the Government's defence is that this executive order is not legally binding and can be overturned by the next administration?"

Dent nodded, looked distracted.

"Do you have any new evidence to present?"

"No, your honour."

"No, your honour."

Olivia felt a sharp shock run down her spine. Instantly she texted Fitz. "Get ready. It's going down."

* * *

><p>As soon as he got the text, Fitz ignored the sudden racing of his heart and made a call to Cyrus. "Get everyone ready. It's on."<p>

"What, already? But the hearing just started. Do they even bother with the judicial process in courtrooms anymore?" Cyrus groused, then paused, "Are you sure she sent the bat signal? She could have been sitting on her phone."

"She sent a bat signal." Fitz exhaled a long breath. "Which means she's can come home earlier than planned."

* * *

><p>Olivia sat forward as the Judge continued with a smile, "Well, I have questions that need asking before I can decide on the facts. Starting with the question of Second Amendment rights, y'all want me to focus on the words '<em>a well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed'. <em>The section – 'right of the people to keep and bear Arms' has been highlighted, but I'm looking at the words 'well-regulated'."

"If I may interrupt, your honour, the power to regulate has been vested in Congress under Articles I and IV of the Constitution," said one of the plaintiff's lawyers .

Judge Liston nodded. "I hear you, but the power to regulate has also been given to the President in Article II section 1 of the Constitution, them being the words 'executive power shall be vested in the President'. There's precedent for Executive Orders to be issued on that basis."

Judge Liston paused as there was muttering at the plaintiffs' table, but when no further objections were voiced, she continued, "So in consideration of the executives powers vested in the President, we come to the question of 'standing' – do the petitioners have standing to file this petition."

"They do, your honour, they feel they will be adversely affected directly and indirectly by the passing of this statute."

"Have any of the members of the Guns for Freedom Alliance been convicted of a crime?"

"Of course not, your honour!" The plaintiff's lead attorney appeared outraged.

"Are they undergoing psychiatric treatment?"

"No, your honour," There was less outrage, but more background whispering among the attorneys.

"But they have a problem with the President's plan to increase funding for psychiatric services under Medicaid?"

"We have no objection to that, your honour. But our clients, who are federally licensed firearms dealers, object to the additional paperwork required by the proposed mental health test to be administered at the point of sale."

The judge shuffled papers. "Where's that stated on the Draft Order?"

"It's, uh, in reference to the matter of funding."

"Oh, you mean this bit here about a funding allocation to develop a psychological test. Are you telling the court that your clients have a problem with research and development in the area of mental health?"

"Um, no, your honour."

Judge Liston waited a moment before asking, "Are your clients under the age of 21 years, which is the minimum age to buy a handgun, or under the age of 18 years which is how old they need to be to buy a rifle or shotgun from a federally licensed dealer? And do they have a problem with current legislative prohibitions on gun ownership for minors?"

"No, on all those points, your honour." There was more whispering at the table. "But they feel it's not their job to police those regulations."

"Again let me take a moment to check the draft order - I can see nothing in here saying gun retailers should police regulations. What I do see is the President proposing to harmonise gun control laws current in seven states, them being California, Connecticut, Hawaii, Massachusetts. New Jersey, New York and Rhode Island. Are you telling me that your clients have never taken part in a gun show in any one of those states?"

"Uh, they have, your honour."

"And did they fail to follow the regulations required by law?"

"Uh, no, your honour."

"Then I don't see the problem. Oh, I see, did y'all get confused about the President's plan to get tough on police refusing to enforce existing gun control laws? That's a plan to get the police to do their job, not for gun retailers to do the job of the police. Why don't I give you a minute to read over that section, and you can tell me if you still get a different meaning."

"Uh, no, your honour."

"Then I rule that the plaintiffs have not met the burden of proof required within the scope of the Executive Order presented. Therefore this petition is denied and dismissed."

Heart thumping, Olivia typed: _SIGN NOW_ and hit send, for a moment there was a stunned silence in the court-room. Then the plaintiffs' lawyers turned as one, and glared at Patrick Dent who appeared to be shrinking in his seat as cheers and jeers broke out in the crowd.

* * *

><p>Breaking News from XYZ White House Correspondent…<p>

"…_President Fitzgerald Grant today signed the Executive Order on Gun Safety after a shock dismissal of a stop order by a Federal Judge in Georgia. Gun control groups say that while the order is a step in the right direction, it has not gone far enough to address the issue of military assault weapons in the hands of civilians in peace time. Gun rights advocates, on the other hand, say the President has over-stepped the bounds of executive power under the United States Constitution…"_

Now Live from the courthouse in Georgia, where our reporter is speaking to First Fiancee Ms Olivia Pope and State Senator Lucas Zeke.

_"Ms Pope, how do you feel about the judges' ruling today?"_

_"Personally, as a civilian, I was happy to hear that the petition was dismissed."_

_"Are you also speaking as a representative of the government?"_

_"No, I am here as a woman who saw the man she loves get shot and almost die. I am here because I believe the President's Executive Order addresses some of the concerns the National Rifle Association has raised in connection to guns being in the hands of criminals and people in need of psychiatric treatment."_

_"And you don't feel that gun control legislation will restrict our Constitutional right to gun ownership?"_

_"I would say that the Federal government has passed several laws on gun control since the Second Amendment was ratified in 1791, and yet Americans own half of all guns worldwide. Federal gun control legislation has not prevented us from owning the 310 million guns we have in the US today."_

_"And how do you think the President will react to news that attorneys for The Guns for Freedom Alliance intend to file a new petition for a permanent injunction?"_

_"I cannot comment on that. Thank you."_

_"Senator Zeke, what is your involvement in this matter? Are you going to announce your bid to run for Governor?"_

_"I'm just here to support a friend. That's all. Y'all have a nice day now."_

* * *

><p>"Why is Olivia Pope taking it upon herself to tell the nation about the actions of this Administration?" Sally Langston said frostily, intercepting Cyrus on his way out of the White House East Room, where Fitz had just finished signing the executive order and was now responding to questions from the attending media.<p>

"Why are apples green and red, instead of orange and purple?"

"What?"

"Exactly, I had no idea what you're talking about either." Cyrus said, side-stepping her to continue walking

"Cyrus! This is an outrage! What is Ms Pope even doing in Georgia? And what is her connection to Lucas Zeke?"

"Sally, I am not Olivia's mother; I do not concern myself with the company she keeps. As to what she's doing in the lovely state of Georgia – I would say she's giving a boost to tourism – and it's working, because they're talking about Georgia on every news channel."

"Cyrus!"

"Got to go, Sally. Duty calls." Cyrus hurried away, breathing a sigh of relief; then cursed when he turned the corner and nearly crashed into James.

"What are you doing here?" he glared, exasperated.

"Yes, lovely to see you too. Mwah, mwah," James kissed the air on either side of his husband's face, and smiled. "And take a deep breath, that's right. We don't want you to spontaneously combust, now do we?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for your witty repartee. I have work to do."

"I'm not here to repartee either. I'm here to start my new job."

"Olivia is still in Georgia." Cyrus muttered, continuing down the corridor.

"I know. She told me to pass on her regards. I'm starting my new job as communications strategist. You know the one you ranted over for a solid 24 hours and then ungraciously accepted that I wasn't going to turn down the job offer."

"Oh, yes, that. But I thought you were going to inflict your presence in an official capacity, after the wedding."

"I was, but Olivia wants me to organise a series of web chats for Fitz. He'll be responding to questions from the public about his Executive Order on Gun Safety, and get a chance to give a broader perspective outside the usual media sound bites."

"Why wasn't I informed about any of this?" Cyrus glowered.

"I don't know. But we can have fun with the conspiracy theories during dinner tonight. Gracious, is that the time? Got to run. I have a very _busy_ schedule today. Oh, and if you want to say 'hi' to Ella, she's with Teddy in the nursery."

* * *

><p>"I'm going to miss you," Zeke muttered as he gave Olivia a long hug. "And you know I don't say that to a lot of women."<p>

Olivia laughed. "I'm honoured, and I'm going to miss you too."

"We make a good team, don't we?"

"Yes, we do."

"And you know that if you ever need my help, you just have to call me._ I'll be there_!" Zeke sang.

Again Olivia laughed, then she angled her head. "Are you and Oscar free to fly to DC on Valentine's Day?"

* * *

><p>"Mm, this peach jam is delish. I might make a crumb cake with this as a filling." Abby dipped her finger in the jam bottle and scooped up another dollop to taste.<p>

"I'm loving this salty pecan brittle," Quinn broke off a piece and savoured the taste. "Wish I'd got some for the Dent kids. I feel so bad for them."

"Oscar said the wife has found herself a good lawyer. A real shark."

"Good, I hope he takes a huge bite out of Dent's big, hairy ass."

"Ewww! Could you not talk about that?"

At the conference table, Harrison and Huck were peering into a laptop, replaying the recordings of the previous night. "So how much do you think it cost to set up that operations centre in Zeke's bunker?" Harrison asked Huck.

"A lot. The equipment was state-of-the-art; he must have friends at the top."

"Yeah, the President."

"No, higher than that. People with money, who don't have to answer to Congress or the public."

"Man, sometimes I forget who really runs this country."

Nor far from them, Olivia sat curled up in a leather chair, gazing out the window, absently rubbing her engagement ring. The flight was taking too long. She missed him. She missed them. She missed her family. The thought made her smile.

_Her_ family...

She glanced over at her associates having their private conversations and Tom, who was dozing in his seat. The other agents were reading magazines or playing cards, while still keeping watch, unobtrusively.

Olivia turned her attention back to fluffy clouds and blue skies, feeling warm comfort settle in the pit of her belly. Then she sat up with a jolt of anticipation as her phone buzzed; and seeing the caller ID, she smiled.

"I'm almost there," she said softly

"Almost is not good enough," he grumbled.

"Mr President…" she gave a soft chuckle.

"Mmm…" he rumbled softly. "So did you try them out?"

"No!" She laughed, then whispered. "We can try them out tonight."

"Oh, I like that."

She blushed and whispered, "I can't wait."

Further down the cabin, Abby rolled her eyes. "No second guesses as to who she's talking to."

"Nope," Quinn giggled."She's fallen deeply, madly, truly."

"Isn't the movie _Truly, Madly, Deeply_?" Abby sniffed.

Quinn took another bite of candy. "You know, it was nice having her around, being the boss lady. I miss that."

"Yeah, me too," Harrison turned to look at them, murmuring, "And the undercover stuff ain't bad."

"You need more training. I can help with that," Huck said, his attention still on his laptop.

"I wonder if the President needs to sign more Executive Orders," Quinn said. "You know some really unpopular ones."

"Pretty sure he does, now that he's in love and wants to fix everything that's broken. Forgetting of course that it was mostly the Republicans that broke it," Abby muttered, closing the jam jar.

Quinn and Harrison exchanged a glance, then Quinn extended her box of candy to Harrison, "Brittle?"

"Salty, too."

Abby frowned at them suspiciously, but they just avoided her gaze and munched away.

* * *

><p>When they landed at Andrews Air Force Base in Washington DC, the pilot asked them to remain seated until they received clearance to disembark.<p>

"I could get used to travelling this way," Quinn sighed, settling back into the soft leather of her seat.

"Lots of elbow space," Harrison agreed.

"And meals on a plate," Abby added.

"And vegetarian that's not chicken," Huck nodded.

Just then Olivia felt a flutter along her spine as conversation came to an abrupt halt. Anticipation singing through her, she looked over her shoulder to see Fitz enter the cabin, his gaze searching and settling on her.

"Hi."

Other than an inarticulate gasp of joy, she didn't respond as she leapt out of her chair and launched herself into his arms.

He grabbed her to him, lifting her off her feet, burying his face in her neck.

"So does this mean we can leave now?" Abby asked drily.

Olivia snuffled a laugh as Fitz groaned softly, kissing her ear and her cheek before carefully setting her down, while keeping her snug against his side.

"Abby," Fitz smiled, extending his free hand. "Nice to see you again."

Abby twitched a smile, and shook hands gingerly. Then watched as Fitz extended the same courtesy to the other associates. "I'd like to thank you all for helping us out in Georgia. We'd never have managed to rescue that little girl without your help."

"Yeah, well, you know - all in a day's work," Quinn grinned.

"It was good to have Liv with us, being hands on," Harrison said.

"Yeah, we're available if there's anything else you need us to take care of," Huck added.

"I'll keep that in mind," Fitz chuckled, turning to give Olivia a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Okay, that's our cue to get out of here," Abby said, giving Olivia an awkward hug while trying to avoid touching any part of Fitz.

"It's because you're a Republican," Olivia explained after the associates had left.

"But I'm a good guy, just tell her to ask these guys if she doesn't believe me," Fitz teased, referring to the agents going past on their way out, including Tom who received a special slap on the back.

Once the last agent left, a small silence descended in the cabin as Fitz and Olivia looked at each other.

"I missed you," he said with fervor.

"I missed you too."

He cupped her face, lowering his mouth to brush a featherlight kiss across her smiling lips, then tugged playfully at her lower lip making her laugh. Instantly he deepened the kiss, taking her weight in his arms as she stood on tiptoe, straining towards him.

"Livvie…" he groaned hoarsely, pressing his forehead against hers when they broke apart. Drawing back, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, "There's something I need to tell you."

"Me too."

"You go first."

"I invited Zeke and Oscar to the wedding."

"Your dad's here. And he's staying at the White House."

There was a silence, then he said softly, "Say something."

"Are you upset about my news?"

"No," he shook his head. "Are you upset about mine?"

"Yes."

"Can I still get a kiss?"

In answer, Olivia pressed her mouth to his fiercely, then kissed a trail along his jaw before burying her face in his shoulder. "Why does he have to stay with us?"

"I think he's trying to get closer to you," he murmured, rubbing her back. "They're on the third floor. And I'll ask him to give me an itinerary of his and Felicia's movements so you can avoid them at all times."

She snuffled a laugh, lifting her head to look at him.

He leaned down and kissed her nose. "We should go. The guys must be getting impatient for us to leave."

They made their way out, arm-in-arm. At the bottom of the steps, Fitz shook hands with the agents waiting, and saluted the military personnel on guard before gently guiding Olivia to the Presidential limousine.

He kissed her once more before opening the passenger door. Then grinned at her squeal of delight, which was followed by shrieks from the two kids inside. As Olivia disappeared in a flurry of hugs and kisses, he followed, resigning himself to taking the seat opposite, while Jerry and Karen sandwiched Olivia, peppering her with questions about her adventures in Georgia.

* * *

><p>Breaking News from XYZ news desk in Georgia…<p>

_"US Attorney Patrick Dent was found dead at his home this evening, with a gun shot wound to the back of his head. Atlanta Police are treating his death as a homicide after the shock discovery that the victim had been stripped naked and tied to a chair. He was reportedly alone at the time of the incident, after Mrs Dent and the children moved out of the family home in the early hours of this morning. Mrs Dent was not available for comment. Our sources say that police arrived at the house to arrest Mr Dent on charges of kidnapping and obstruction of justice. Mr Dent was Federal Prosecutor in the hearing to prevent the President signing an Executive Order on Gun Safety, which concluded earlier today with a dismissal. It is unclear at this stage if there is a link. Police have no known suspects for Mr Dent's murder at this time, but say they have in custody four associates of Mr Dent's who are helping with the official investigation..." _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank YOU again for your lovely, encouraging, informative comments. I LOVE them! **

**And I've also realised my author's notes have been a bit too brief! Sorry about that, my job hunt is depressing and it's affecting my sense of humour but I've resurrected it today (death warmed over) to write a super looooong note.  
><strong>

**Anyway, I've been feeling bad about making OPA drift off like flotsam and jetsam. Hence, Olivia Pope and Associates 'fixing' undercover with the help of a secret army. And there were two articles that helped me decide on the Rainbow crew. **

**One was ****_Why It's Rare To 'See A Black Face' In The SEALs_****, a radio interview with transcript on the NPR website published May 28, 2012 - where the African American SEAL senior chief says it's not racism but a lack of awareness and swimming skills – for SEA, Air And Land – that's holding more people of colour from being recruited into elite forces. I don't know enough about the US military to disagree with him, but I can tell you as a woman of colour, who grew up 5 minutes from a Sri Lankan beach – I can't swim.**

**The second article was ****_The U.S. Could Have Its First Female Navy SEALs By 2016 _****by Josh Voorhees published in Slate on Jun 18, 2013 – meaning there currently aren't any women SEALs. (Apparently, there is a limit to the improbabilities I will include in this story – shock, horror!)**

**And I wanted to choose military personnel because the crazies are supposed to be weeded out, so the sane can be ordered to kill, while they themselves die in the process. (Oops, did I just let slip my disdain for the games big boys play with other people's lives).**

**Also felt the need to include a few healthy relationships in this story, as I'm over the dysfunctional ones in Scandal.**

**The next point to note is that in real life an injunction hearing would probably take a lot longer – I referred to (as in shamelessly pilfered) ****_Hedges v Obama_**** and the transcript was 152 pages long! If you care to read it, please do, it's very entertaining! Anyway as this is a Scandal story, best keep the action scandalously short. **

**I should mention my crass re-working of the US legal system was misappropriated by information gathered from the following articles:**

**_Hedges v Obama final hearing transcript_**** on scribd website; ****_Milestones in Federal Gun Control Legislation_**** - written by John Gettings and Catherine McNiff on Infoplease****_; Articles I, II & IV_**** were taken from Cornell Law and ****_The Reach of Congressional Power: Specific Article I and IV Powers_**** from Law2 UMKC websites; ****_Executive Orders: The Power of the President's Pen_**** by Kirs Strohman in The Legality published Dec 11, 2008 and ****_Psych tests for gun owners recommended_**** by Andrew Drummond, Oct 18, 2010 in the Sydney Morning Herald (this was a recommendation for Australia, but figured I'd use it here for the US). Did I leave anyone out – yes Wikipedia for everything from ****_Standing_**** to ****_Injunctions_**** to ****_Federal Firearms _****_legislation_****!**

**And I hope to have a few OLITZ-centric chapters coming up soon…!**

**Happy Valentines for those still enjoying February 14 in your parts of the world! Quote for every day of the year: ****_Being Deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage – Lao Tzu _**


	18. Gift Giving

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Did Dad tell you the bad news, Mom?" Jerry asked, as he munched on chocolate pecan turtles from the candy basket Olivia had brought back from Georgia. "Rowan is here."<p>

"Yes, Fitz told me," Olivia shot a wry glance at Fitz, who gave her a cheeky grin in return.

"And did he tell you that we've become residents of Pope Prison?"

"Jerry's upset because we can't have Poppy, Rex, Daisy or Darth with us at meal times," Karen, said through a mouthful of chocolate pecan pralines, as she snuggled up to Olivia. "Rowan said smelly, mangy mutts belonged in kennels, not under the dinner table. But it's okay Dad talked to Rowan and now they can be in Jerry's room watching DOGTV when we're having dinner."

"Well, I kind of like not having my every bite watched by a bunch of drooling canines," muttered Fitz, snagging a handful of pretzel bites.

Jerry nudged Olivia's arm to gain her attention. "_And_ Rowan's signed me up to help at a soup kitchen. I asked Dad to sign an Executive Order to get him to leave me alone, but Dad's being a hard ass. So you think you can speak to Rowan, Mom?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia caught Fitz giving an imperceptible shake of his head. "Jer, is it the soup kitchen that's the problem? Would you like to help out somewhere else?"

"I don't mind the soup kitchen, but Rowan wants to be there too."

"Jerry thinks Rowan will be spying on him."

"Yeah," Jerry agreed with Karen. "If Rowan wants to do his part for the community, he should find another soup kitchen. Instead, he's following me around. It's a real bummer that he's your real dad. I was hoping we could run him out of town if he wasn't."

Fitz paused in the middle of popping a handful of glazed pecans into his mouth. "Wait, you were calling him Liv's 'fake' dad a few days ago. What changed your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Jerry."

"Okay, so I may have sent some of Mom's and Rowan's hairs off to be analysed. And I may have got the results back. And the results may have said they're 99.9% sure that Rowan is Mom's biological dad. But it's okay, Dad, I didn't pretend to be you this time. I got Pete to get the paternity kit, so no one can trace it back to the White House. And I'm paying him back from my allowance."

* * *

><p>"Is it too late to tell the North Koreans that they can have Jerry?" Fitz muttered as Olivia straddled his lap undoing his tie.<p>

Olivia kissed his chin. "You know, you can't keep grounding him."

"Yes, I can. This time he got Peter involved in his delinquent activities."

Olivia started on the buttons of his shirt. "Peter told his Dad about it."

"After the fact. I can't even imagine what Peter's parents must think of us."

Olivia chuckled. "Well, whatever they imagine won't be close to the real deal, like the past couple of days in Georgia."

Fitz tightened his hands on her waist. "I was so worried about you."

She stroked her fingers through his thick, silky soft curls. "Why?"

"I don't know. Something about that whole situation didn't feel right."

She cupped his face between her hands. "You were right. A child was kidnapped, but I was okay thanks to Tom, the other agents, my guys, Zeke and Zeke's team. You weren't playing when it came to my safety and I was fine."

Fitz rolled Olivia onto her back, settling himself between her legs. She smiled pushing her fingers into the curling hair at his nape, while rubbing her foot up along his muscled shin.

"I want to keep you wrapped up in cotton wool."

"Not fashion trendy." She wrinkled her nose to his soft chuckle. "And," she added huskily, "You need to chill when it comes to Jerry."

"The only way that's going to happen is if I move to the Arctic. And…" He nuzzled her nose. "The only reason you're cool, is because he was trying to get Rowan out of the White House."

"Yeah," Olivia chuckled. "I'm biased in Jer's favour because of that."

Fitz lowered his mouth to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss; sliding one arm from beneath her to begin flicking open the buttons of her jacket; issuing a soft sigh when it opened to reveal that she was bare underneath.

"If I'd known you were dressed like this, I wouldn't have brought the kids."

Pleasure swept over her in a tide as he fingers caressed her. Then he palmed her back, helping her arch towards him; a soft groan leaving them both, when his warm, wet mouth closed over her hot, pebbled skin.

Then they groaned in unison, hearing a sharp knock on the door.

"Pretend we're not here," Olivia urged, pressing her hand to the back of his head.

"Olivia, I know you're in there. This is your father," the authoritative voice called through the door.

Fitz rolled off Olivia and sat on the edge of the bed. Unfazed, Olivia shifted behind him, laying her cheek against his muscled back, sneaking her hands around him to stroke his chest.

He stopped her hands. "It's not going to work, baby. That was more effective than a bucket of cold water."

She sighed, as Fitz kissed her nose and began to do up her jacket.

* * *

><p>"Dad." Olivia said, stepping out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.<p>

"Olivia." Rowan rested his gaze on her hair that she hadn't bothered to fix. Then his gaze returned to hers blandly. "How was Georgia?"

"That's why you wanted to see me?" She said evenly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

"Olivia, you are my daughter. I haven't seen you since Christmas. It's only natural that I would want to see you, to see how you have been keeping. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"And Georgia?"

"Georgia was okay."

Rowan smirked. "I see. " Then he brought his hands from behind his back and extended a box towards her. "I wanted you to have this. It was your mother's. And I'm sure she would have liked you to wear something of hers on your wedding day."

* * *

><p>"What did he want?" Fitz asked when she stepped back into their bedroom.<p>

"He wanted to give me this," she said, leaning against the door. And the way she said it - her voice tight and her words hoarse - had Fitz reaching her in two strides.

He gathered her to him with one arm while taking the box in his other hand; but stared blankly at Olivia after opening it. "They're a pair of earrings."

"Diamond drop earrings. My father gave them to my mother on their anniversary, the year I was born. She loved these earrings. I thought he'd got rid of them, like he got rid of everything else of hers. But he kept these. I didn't know he kept these. He wants me to wear them on our wedding day." The words rushed out in a torrent.

Fitz tightened his arm around her. "Do you want to?"

She nodded. Then her face crumpled and she buried her face in his chest, drenching his shirt front with her tears.

Without a word, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. They lay down in each other's arms, with him stroking her back, placing kisses all over face, waiting for her tears to subside.

"I miss her so much. I wish she was here." She sniffed, stroking the damp patch on his shirt. "She would sing to me all the time...She had a beautiful voice...I loved hearing her sing."

He stroked back her hair. "Was there are a special song or lullaby your mother would sing to you?"

She nodded; singing the words to _All Day All Night_, hesitantly, disjointedly until he started singing with her. Then her voice faded away as she listened to him, her eyes shining like drenched onyx.

When he reached the end, she whispered, "Sing it again."

And he did, until her lashes drooped, then closed; and his husky, tender voice was the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Hollis arrived at number One Observatory Circle and was met at the door by Sally Langston.<p>

"Well, now isn't this nice. A personal invitation to the home of the Vice President and I am met at the door by none other than the lady herself." Hollis smiled.

"We do take our southern hospitality seriously, Hollis, as you know." Sally led him through the reception hall, up the stairs, to the second floor study, where she made sure the door was closed securely before ushering him to one of the leather couches.

"And where is Daniel Douglas Langston tonight?" Hollis sat down, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms over his chest.

"Daniel is at the club, getting acquainted with Jack Daniels."

"Well, that is a darned shamed. I was hoping he'd show me that collection of stuffed animals he keeps bragging about."

"Yes, well, Daniel has always been one for the great outdoors."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." Hollis smiled. "Now, I hear things didn't go down too well in your home state. Guess them peaches are looking less peachy now for our first female President. Chuck and Doug will be mighty disappointed."

Sally froze in her armchair. "The Cosh brothers?"

"Oh, the top 1 per cent is as prone to gossip as the bottom 99, although I am a little hurt that you would class me with the dregs, Mrs Langston. Or did my invitation to your little dinner party get lost in the mail?"

"Hollis, that dinner party, as you call it, was merely a fishing expedition to see how much support I could garner. I am aware that I already have your support on such matters."

"Oh, don't you worry, Sally, I know I don't fit in with that crowd; my money still has a shine to it that don't sit well with folks who have had theirs gathering dust in Liechtenstein, Panama or the Cayman islands. But if you go swimming with them 'gators, Sally, you know sooner or later you gonna get bit."

"Hollis, I am not a naive little debutante, I am well aware of the dangers lurking the water."

"If you say so, Sally. But I reckon that must have been some mighty fine booze you gave those folks, to have them lower their misogyny down a notch or two to see you at the helm."

"Well, necessity is the mother of invention and, I believe, innovation. It's time we changed the décor at the White House with a more feminine touch."

"So how can I help you bring that new broom to sweep in old ideas?"

Sally shot him a look, pursing her lips.

"Oh did I say that wrong? I'm sure I meant to say old broom to sweep in new ideas?"

There was a knock on the door, and Sally held up her hand to get Hollis to pause. "Yes, what is it?"

The door opened, and a maid said softly, "Ma'am, dinner is ready to be served."

"Thank you, we'll be right down." Sally waited until the door was closed, then said pleasantly, "I am sure you will sort out the deficiencies in your speech over a nice steak. In the meantime, tell me what you know about Olivia Pope's associates. I understand you are closely acquainted with them, after that presumed kidnapping involving your daughter."

* * *

><p>The room was lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp when Olivia woke, and the first thing she saw on opening her eyes, was a purple dragon staring back at her. Then she smiled, clutching the stuffed toy to her in a hug, breathing in the scent of cotton candy and caramel.<p>

"I told Karen you were missing your Mommy," Fitz said softly, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb, naked, his hair tousled and damp from a shower. "She left that for you before she went to bed."

A slow smile spread over his face as her eyes wandered over his body. "Hungry?" When her gaze flew to his, he teased, "For food. You missed dinner." Adding after a pause, "Felicia fixed you a plate."

Instantly her lustful expression vanished, and she turned, leaving him staring at her back as she muttered, "Then I'm not hungry."

She felt the bed dip under his weight and his arms slide around her as he pressed his face into the side of her neck.

"She just put food on a plate," he whispered with husky humour. "She didn't cook it. And chef even made caramel popcorn clusters for dessert, just for you."

"He did?"

"He did. Still not hungry?"

"Maybe a little." She pressed her back into him, shifting her hand behind her to squeeze his butt.

He chuckled, placing a lingering kiss below her ear, before turning her in his arms to face him. "Food first, then we play."

She smiled, wrapping a leg over his hip. "You seem ready to play now."

This time his kiss was searing, and when he raised his head to look down at her, his face told her all she needed to know.

Carefully turning to place the purple dragon on the night-table, she sat up to slide her clothes off as he watched. Then she knelt at his side, letting her gaze follow the trail of his hand moving along her thigh, up over her stomach to cup her breast.

"Still want to wait?" she asked huskily, looking down at him.

"Yeah." He grinned and grabbed her, making her chortle with glee as he hauled her on top of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: THANK YOUs all, for keeping this lacklustre writer going- YOUR COMMENTS give me LIFE! Tho' I must say I'm getting over the disappointment of my job-less state after realising I have more time to write! **

**So I thought I'd better get this wedding happening – especially as we're past Valentine's Day in RL! But I think I have to write another transition chapter before the 'wedding chapter'. A few more loose ends to tie up.**

**And don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Zeke. I like him too. And Jerry and Rowan will be helping out at the soup kitchen together – erk, yikes, ohmigawd. **

**I also feel that Rowan does love Olivia the only way he knows how but I don't think their relationship will ever be a Disney movie, more of a ****_Simpsons_****. And I kind of enjoy writing Olivia regressing to her childhood after interacting with her Dad, and the mere ****_thought_**** of Felicia. **

**BTW, Cat is not impressed at the amount of dogs in this story. After sitting on the keyboard staring at the screen, she turned and gave me the evil eye - she feels intelligence is under-represented in this story.  
><strong>


	19. Axioms

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>The next morning, Olivia woke to find herself hemmed in by warm bodies. It didn't take her long to identify the culprits, not when Daisy was on Fitz's pillow, making tiny little yips of noise in the middle of her doggy dreams.<p>

There was a knock on the door. "Ma'am?"

"Come in."

The house-hold staffer opened the door and paused at the sight of Olivia still in bed. "Ma'am, er, I'm here to take the dogs for a walk."

"Good, then I can get out of bed."

The staffer grinned, jangling the dog leads; prompting the canines, who'd been snoring a second ago, to raise their heads in unison and look in the direction of the noise.

When the leads were jangled again, they leapt off the bed and raced out the door, making the staffer chase after them. But she returned a second later, to close the bedroom with a sheepish grin, giving Olivia the privacy she needed to push back the covers and pad to the bathroom without bothering with a robe.

Olivia grinned at herself in the mirror, pulling a shower cap over her hair. Then softly sang her mother's lullaby as she stepped into the shower stall, adjusted the water temperature, and let the warm water wash over her deliciously aching body.

The song gave way to a tuneless, happy hum as she squeezed a big dollop of coconut bodywash onto a washcloth and worked up a generous lather on her skin; following the trails made by Fitz, with his hands and mouth, the night before.

She was still humming under her breath, much later, when she headed towards the private kitchen on the second floor of the Executive Residence.

The breakfast rush was over and there was no sign of the chef, his assistants, two valets and the butler, who usually prepared and plated up the hot breakfast that would have been served in the adjoining family dining room, to Fitz, the children, Rowan and Felicia.

Olivia was in the middle of feeding bananas, apples, spinach and celery into the juicer, making a green smoothie, when an interruption made the muscles on her neck tense instantly.

"Olivia."

Olivia glanced at the slim dark woman with silver cropped hair who'd entered the room, and forced herself to say pleasantly, "Felicia." Before loosening her shoulders, to lift up the juice container and pour out a glass. After a pause, she asked reluctantly, "Would you like some?"

"Thank you. Yes. That would be nice."

Olivia poured out a second glass, saving a portion for Fitz that she intended to take to him in the Oval Office.

"You didn't make it to dinner or breakfast," Felicia murmured, picking up the glass Olivia placed on the counter nearby.

"I was catching up on sleep. Had a couple of busy nights, working."

They stood, leaning against the counter, sipping their glasses, avoiding eye contact.

Then Felicia took an audible breath and said smoothly, "Karen told us that you still haven't found a dress. I think I might be able to help."

Olivia angled a look at Felicia, studying her cherry red Dr Martens, ankle length figure hugging emerald knit dress, bold patterned scarf and chunky tribal bracelets.

Catching the look, Felicia gave a cold smile. "I realise our tastes differ. You prefer a more bland palette to mine—"

"Are those leather boots?" Olivia interrupted.

"They are faux leather. Perfect for vegans. But as I was saying, Olivia, having taught fashion journalism for the past thirty years, I have contacts."

"Thank you, but I was planning to go downtown today and check out the bridal boutiques."

"You're going to wear something off the rack?" Felicia clutched a hand to her heart.

"Yes, a lot of brides do that."

"But you're not like those other brides, Olivia. You're marrying the President of the United States, in the White House. People will be watching. The fashion industry will be watching. You can't just step out in last year's Amsale, Carolina Herrera or Monique Lhuillier. It has to be fresh, custom-made and fashion forward. From now on, you have to think of your body as a canvas for American design and creativity. You are fashion ambassador whether you are aware of it or not. And your dress should be unique. As unique as Jacqueline Bouvier's wedding dress that is on display in the Kennedy library in Boston."

Olivia drained her glass and put it down on the counter with a thunk."Felicia, I don't appreciate the lecture," She watched Felicia's neat brows snap together, then added, "But you do have a point."

"Of course I have a point! This is your chance to introduce the work of a struggling or unknown designer to the world. And unlike Ann Lowe who was referred to as a 'coloured woman seamstress' by Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy; you, Olivia, as a woman of colour can elevate the status of another minority designer by, at the very least, mentioning his or her name."

"Felicia, if you can keep at the forefront of your mind, at all times, that I'm not a newbie undergrad taking one of your classes, I think this could work. But we don't have a lot of time."

"Ann Lowe and her staff worked eight days straight to re-create the Bouvier wedding dress and the 10 bridesmaids dresses, after flood damage ruined the originals. I'm sure we can find someone who is sufficiently professional about deadlines and enthusiastic about quality, to create a dress for you in as much time."

* * *

><p>Olivia stepped over Fitz, lying on the rug playing with Teddy, to place the travel mug containing the green smoothie on the Resolute desk.<p>

"What's that?" He raised a brow.

"It's good for you."

"Oh, something I won't like."

"It's good for you," Olivia repeated, joining them on the floor. "Can we elope?"

Fitz gave a soft chuckle, letting go of Teddy who immediately crawled up to Olivia and tried to grab her necklace. "Why? What brought this on?"

"Felicia wants to help me choose my wedding dress. And I've agreed to go to Manhattan with her. But I just know itt's going to end badly. Our screaming match will be on the evening news. So I was thinking, maybe you and I could go to Vegas instead."

"And get married by Elvis," Fitz added.

"Perfect," Olivia grinned, lifting Teddy onto her lap. "So shall we leave now?"

Fitz sat up to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll get Marine One to fly you to New York."

Olivia covered Teddy's ears and hissed, "Why do you have to be such a hard ass when it comes to Felicia and my dad?"

"They're your family. And because of that, they'll be part of mine." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "They're your history, Livvie. The part I don't know all that much about, the part you only reveal when you get upset with your Dad. I need him around, so I can learn more about you."

"Couldn't you get the CIA to interrogate me instead?"

He laughed. "No. I'm saving that for a special occasion."

Olivia sighed, leaning against Fitz. "So Vegas is out?"

"Yep." He kissed her temple. "But Marine One is in. That way you can yell and scream at Felicia in complete privacy."

* * *

><p>Telecast of mid-morning chat show on ZZZ TV - <em>DC on Our Watch -<em> taped before a live studio audience….

_"…Now are we going to talk about the upcoming nuptials of President Fitzgerald Grant the Third?"_

_"There's not much to talk about – all we know is that President Grant will be marrying his second wife. When? They don't want us to know, but the gossip on Capitol Hill says its sure to be a Valentine's Day wedding."_

_"Aww, that's so romantic - marrying the love of your life on a day that celebrates romantic love."_

_"Well, I'm more interested in the future First Lady. What do we really know about Ms Pope?"_

_"She's a crisis manager. She's handled several high-profile cases, like the one involving Senator Richard Meyers who got caught up in that sexting murder scandal."_

_"You mean he got caught doing 'D' business, instead of the business of legislating."_

_…(Pause as audience cackles with laughter)…_

_"But you know, jokes aside, the murder of Desiree Oaks is still unresolved."_

_"I'm sure there's nothing Ms Pope can do about that, she's a crisis manager, not a homicide detective. Ms Pope handles the media, like she did for Congresswoman Josephine Marcus, the Democrat from Montana."_

_"Key word to focus on there is 'Democrat', Ms Marcus was running against the President , or I should say, Ms Pope's soon-to-be- husband." _

_"Their romance wasn't public then."_

_"But they've known each other since Ms Pope ran Mr Grant's first Presidential campaign. And he won that race, folks. So if she put her hand up to run Josie Marcus' campaign – should we call it a 'slam dunk' scenario?"_

_"What I want to know is how the President felt when he heard Ms Pope had taken on Ms Marcus as a client? Guess there was no nooky for the lovebirds that night."_

_…(Again audience laughter)…_

_"I guess from that we can say Ms Pope is pragmatic, rather than loyal, when it comes to her own business."_

_"Well, Ms Marcus did drop out of the race, when she was widely regarded as the front runner. Now they're saying Governor Samuel Reston of Maryland has a chance to step into the void."_

_"Forget Reston, go back to that Marcus woman. You were talking about Ms Pope's loyalty, maybe it was loyalty to the President that got the Congresswoman out of the race. You know keep your friends close, but your enemies closer - until you can kick them out of your life for good."_

_...(More audience laughter)..._

_"Well, what would you say about her employees whom she keeps even closer. Here's a picture of them at the hearing in Georgia a couple of days ago. I mean some of these guys have criminal records, like this guy here sitting right next to Ms Pope. His name is Mr Harrison Wright."_

_"Didn't he get done for insider trading?"_

_"Yeah, he was sentenced to eight years, but got out after six months."_

_"Ms Olivia Pope was his attorney." _

_"Guess the lady is very good at her job."_

_"Defending criminals."_

"What the hell is this shit?" Harrison stopped the recording. "Why are they talking about me?"

"Or the real question is why are they talking about you now?" Huck muttered.

"So one of our clients saw this and sent the link?" Abby frowned.

"Does that mean we'll all get outed, including me with my murder charge?" Quinn asked, switching her anxious gaze between the other three associates.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about right now. If they were going to talk about you, they'd have said something," Harrison reassured her.

But then Abby tossed in, "Weird, that they didn't mention Cytron. I mean if they really wanted to show the criminality of Liv's employees, they should have focused on the 'Molotov Mistress' aka Quinn Perkins aka Lindsay Dwyer accused of murdering seven people including her cheating boyfriend."

"Her boyfriend wasn't cheating and she didn't do it," Huck said, as Quinn opened her mouth to give a blistering reply, but settled on "Yeah, what he said." Before adding, "So I guess this means that David isn't the leak."

"Of course, he's not the leak!" Abby glared at her. "…This time."

"Aren't we missing the obvious here?" Harrison muttered.

Abby and Quinn looked at each other, but it was Huck who said, "Your colour?"

"No, man," Harrison waved that aside. "Someone's going after Liv, trying to make her look bad, and they're using me to do it."

* * *

><p>"Did you see it?" Fitz asked over the phone, from the Oval Office.<p>

"Yes," Olivia replied, pacing the floor of a hastily-vacated office in Lower Manhattan. "Huck sent me the link. And I've been getting calls non-stop from my former clients, worried that the leak is from my guys. They think OPA is the one talking to the media, breaking our contractual obligations on confidentiality."

"The cases they mentioned were hardly private."

"No, but there were others that the media don't know I've handled. And the high-profile clients are worried that the unsanitised information will get out and make them front page news again, just when their lives are getting back on track."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I tell my clients to do - speak to the press. I've called _DC on Our Watch_, and scheduled an interview with my guys on the talk show. We'll be taping at their studios tomorrow morning."

"Did you get the dress?"

"Yes, kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's a work in progress."

* * *

><p>Taping of ZZZ chat show <em>DC on Our Watch<em>, an exclusive interview with Olivia Pope and her Associates, Harrison Wright, Quinn Perkins, Abby Whelan and Huck.

_"Ms Pope, thank you for being on our show, even if we had to keep our live audience out, at the request of the United States Secret Service."_

"We didn't want to put your audience through the invasion of privacy that would be required if they were to attend. I'm sure you can understand the Secret Service Agents have to do their job but at the same time I understand you have to do yours."

_"Oh of course, of course. We're all about being accommodating our guests as much as possible, Ms Pope, and it's truly a pleasure to have you on our show. I believe this is the first media interview you've given since you've given become engaged to the President."_

"I don't talk about my personal life, or my clients' personal life without a signed release form. That's a standard we follow at Olivia Pope and Associates, but I understand you're more interested in the way I run my business and the people I employ, not necessarily the clients I've handled."

_"Oh, we're just doing our job, Ms Pope, we take the pulse of the people and discuss the hot topics of the day."_

"Well, I'm flattered to be a hot topic, and appreciate being invited to the show so I can answer your questions in person, with my associates who are here to answer your questions too."

_"So is this guy's real name Huck? That's it? Is that what's on his birth certificate?"_

"I can speak for myself and my name is Huck."

_"Okay then, well, I guess we should really talk about the guy who grabbed our attention - Mr Harrison Wright. Is it true you were convicted for Insider Trading?'_

"Yes, it's true."

_"And Ms Pope was your defense attorney?"_

"Liv was more than that. She didn't just defend me in court, she gave me my life back. She got me out early on a conditional release, and gave me a job. She's like my big sister, always watching out for me. Always watching out for all of us."

_"So your relationship goes way back before she became your lawyer?"_

"Yeah, we're from the hood." Harrison grinned at Olivia.

"Yes," she laughed. "And when Harrison rang to say he was in trouble, of course, I dropped everything and went to help. My father, who was a law professor, has always told me that when we are faced with injustice, we must do everything in our power to counter it."

_"Your father sounds like an upstanding guy, Ms Pope. What's his name?"_

"Professor Rowan Pope, he's a member of the Emeritus Faculty of Cornell Law School; and regularly writes for the Journal of Empirical Legal Studies on what he considers room for improvement in our legal system."

_"And did you feel there was room for improvement in Mr Harrison's case?"_

"Yes."

_"Mr Harrison, is there anything you'd like to add?"_

"Well, everything I had to say is in the court transcript."

_"We have a copy of that here. Yeah, we like to do our research on this program. The transcript, and let me just paraphrase a bit, says that you bought stock on the recommendations of one of your clients. That was the evidence given by the SEC investigator. But I'm curious, why did you chose not to defend yourself?"_

"It's not that I chose not to defend myself. It was a matter of client-attorney privilege. We hadn't discussed the commission of a crime, I got a hot tip from a client who was also a friend, and I acted on it. That's it."

Olivia leaned forward. "Can I just say that the case against Harrison was just a scare tactic. The SEC wanted Harrison to roll on his client. He didn't. And his punishment didn't fit the so-called crime. I just made that clear to the parole board, and the state governor."

_"In the Parole hearing transcript that we have—"_

"Wow, your researchers have been unusually thorough. I watch your show on an off," said Quinn. "You guys usually get your research from _US Weekly _and _People Magazine_."

_"…Yes, we have a couple of new hires in our research department."_

_"Yep, they sure have been earning their internship wages lately."_

"You're paying your interns?" Abby raised a brow.

_"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we are. Don't all interns get paid?"_

"No," Quinn shook her head "And we're just curious because the network hasn't hired anyone for this show in the last 12 months. Isn't that right, Harrison?"

"Yep, in fact, they've laid off 20 staffers in the past week because of budget cuts."

"That twenty included the two women who complained to the network about sexual harassment. What a coincidence their names got included in the Pink Slip Lottery." Abby said with a smile.

…_(Pause as talk show hosts stare blankly at the OPA, then one of them rallies)…_

_"Never mind that, getting back to the transcript, it says Ms Pope presented evidence that the investigator seduced Harrison in the hope of getting him to reveal his client's correspondence and when he wouldn't, the SEC brought charges against him."_

"If that's what it says in the transcript, then that must be what I did," Olivia smiled.

_"Yes, of course, Ms Pope, we don't expect you to have memorised everything that happened such a long time ago. But Mr Harrison did commit a crime and we just want our audience to know what happened."_

"Harrison served six months for that so-called crime, and we're not here so you can re-try him on this show." Olivia said. "Even if there wasn't the matter of double jeopardy, there is a matter of jurisprudence – how many of you have passed the bar?"

"None," Huck answered.

"But they do have criminal records," Quinn said, "So I guess they do have some familiarity with the legal system."

"DUIs, possession of illegal substances, public indecency, and one charge of child neglect," Huck said placing each folder on the table.

"Would you care to discuss any of your past crimes, in a balance of fairness?" Olivia asked.

* * *

><p>Discussion on <em>Today's Hot Topic<em> on rival network OHH the next day…

_"Now, are we going to talk about that other show that is no more?"_

_"Wow, that just blew my mind – 'DC on Our Watch' being cancelled without warning."_

_"But you're not surprised, are you? Really?"_

_"No I can't say, I'm surprised. If you've got a show's that's been tanking in the ratings and a network that's been taking an axe to its regular programming since the start of the year, then it stands to reason that sooner rather than later, that show would get the chop."_

_"Yeah, but if it was just ratings, we wouldn't have the apology. And for folks who've been asleep while all this was going down, ZZZ network chief has issued a formal statement to Ms Olivia Pope and Mr Harrison Wright saying it was not the network's intent to slander Ms Pope's crisis management business or call into question Mr Harrison's reputation by highlighting a past mistake. If you want to read the apology, sorry statement, in it's entirety, you can find the link on our Facebook page to the Olivia Pope and Associates website."_

_"So when the hosts of DC On Our Watch were talking about getting an exclusive, what they really meant was, they were getting an exclusive into oblivion, I guess."_

_"You think they'll revamp the show and bring in new faces?"_

_"Watch this space, folks, watching this space. And RIP DC on Our Watch until then."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: THANK YOU for the feedback – and for being patient with the Rowan/Felicia story line but that's the only way I could think of to get more personal factoids in that I'm learning thanks to America's Black History month (February). **

**So for a point of accuracy (that's not in my story) Marine One and Air Force One are only called that apparently, if the President is flying in those aircraft. Otherwise they're called by the craft/tail/whatever number. But that was just too hard for my brain to compute – it's a struggle to come up with words, now I have to do numbers too?!**

**The second thing is that I wanted to include a reference to Ann Lowe in this story, after reading about the dismissive way her work was regarded not only by Jackie Kennedy, but also the media. And this after the designer and her staff worked eight days straight to have 11 dresses ready on time, after water damage ruined the original dresses. That make-up work put Ms Lowe $2200 in loss, instead of the $700 profit she was expecting.**

**You can read more via ****_Ann Lowe: Black Fashion Designer Who Created Jacqueline Kennedy's Wedding Dress (PHOTOS) _****- by Julee Wilson in Huffington Post on 02/05/2013; And ****_Wedding dress of Jacqueline Bouvier_**** in Wikipedia **

**And I decided that Hollis would target Harrison because he would be too closely connected to Quinn – so in the vaguest of terms, I mashed together what I felt must have gone down with Harrison, minus Adnan Salif (who?! Exactly!).**

**Articles that helped my confusion-keyed brain come up with all that : ****_Insider Trading Shows Absurdity of Sentencing Guidelines _****- written by Walter Pavlo in Forbes on July 29, 2013 and ****_SEC Rocked By Lurid Sex-and-Corruption Lawsuit_**** written by Matt Taibbi in Rolling Stone on Nov 19, 2012. I tells ya - there are scandals everywhere!  
><strong>

**Sorry for the 60+ readers who've already this after I posted - but I've changed the brother from another mother reference Olivia made about Harrison during the DC on Our Watch interview to just 'Harrison' - the other was a line I intended to change but missed before posting!**


	20. Vignettes

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong><em>A WEEK before the wedding…<em>**

"You got Tony Bennet for the Valentine's Dinner? Was Methuselah otherwise engaged?" Cyrus asked during one of his routine interruptions at James' new office in the East Wing.

"Methsella!" Ella chortled from the high chair next, placed next to James who checking last minute details on his desktop computer.

"That's right, baby girl, Daddy Cyrus is a pot calling kettle," James told Ella, before turning to a scowling Cyrus. "Olivia suggested it because Fitz likes old show tunes, Frank Sinatra and jazz. I've also got Norah Jones. Have you got something to say about her?"

"I don't have a problem with her but the other guests might, since most of them are under 10 years old, and wouldn't have heard of either Tony or Norah as they don't twerk or go around egging the neighbourhood. Shouldn't you have booked the Disney singers for their juvenile sensibilities?"

"We don't have that many kids. Hmm… let's see there's Ella, Teddy, Karen, Jerry, Peter, Carlita Mendosa's 3 children, Sameera Hussein's toddler, Sarah Stanner's two children, and Virginia and Henry Guilford's grand-daughter, That's 12. Hardly a stampede."

"Twelve! Remind me to put my heart pills in my Tux. That's the only way I can cope with 12 crying, whining, snotty-nosed kids."

"I think you've got the kids confused with the Cabinet."

"Either way, you should hire a magician or jumping castle to keep the kids and Cabinet entertained."

"Well, I've got for the Marine Band for the actual wedding. Then there's Yo-Yo Ma and Bobby McFerrin for the wedding luncheon. And if you're still not happy with the entertainment, you can always go to the Mayor's open air concert on the National Mall. I think he's got Stevie Wonder, Sting, Jennifer Hudson and Imagine Dragons."

"So much for the hush-hush wedding. This thing is out of control."

"The city is just happy to get involved in their love story. We've had anything like this celebrated at the White House in living memory. Even my parents are too young to remember Grover Cleveland."

"Hmpf," was all Cyrus said in response.

"Anyway, they're not calling it Presidential Wedding celebrations around the city. They're calling them Valentine's Day celebrations."

"Yes, yes, I know the Chief of Police is organising a _Valentine's Day_ street parade with the DC Police Regional Pipe Band and marching bands from DC, Maryland and Virginia. And the Blue Angels will be doing a _Valentine's Day_ fly past, courtesy of Andrews Air Force Base as a tribute to their Commander in Chief and former flyboy Fitzgerald Grant."

"Don't forget the street party on the U Street Corridor, and the laser and light show on the US Capitol building. We've even got the National Zoo handing out stuffed animals and heart-shaped candy. Pretty much everyone is getting involved in this wedding by stealth. "

"You know traffic is going to be a nightmare."

"Which is why we're staying at Blair House."

"Remember to bring the garlic and silver crosses, so we can exorcise any lingering ghosts."

* * *

><p><strong><em>FIVE DAYS<em>** **_before the wedding…_**

"Wow, this is amazing!" Olivia looked at the bouquets, balloons, teddy bears and a multitude of cards hanging off the White House Fence.

"Ma'am, right now it's a security threat. We don't know what's lurking beneath all those flowers. They need to be removed," said the White House security chief.

"There's more on the other side. On all sides," The head gardener said drily. "Looks like the cat's out of the bag, ma'am, as far as your secret wedding is concerned."

Just then some of the well-wishers saw Olivia and screamed, "Ms Pope! Ms Pope! Olivia! Can we get a picture?!"

Olivia smiled and waved back, taking a step towards the gate but the security chief stopped her. "Ma'am, wait. There's been an increase in the number of hate mail we've been receiving. And the President has asked us to increase your security detail."

Minutes later, Olivia walked out of the gate, flanked by four Secret Service agents. "Hello, how are you all? Did you say you wanted a picture?"

"Um, can the secret service not be in it?"

Olivia glanced at the agents with a smile, and they each took a step to the side, but only a step and watched the well-wishers like hawks.

Several minutes later, Olivia walked back to the White House to speak with the household staff. "Let's bring the flowers inside. Make the staff offices a bit more festive with balloons and flowers. We can send the rest to the hospitals and care homes."

"There are people leaving cakes and candy as well, ma'am," said the head gardener. "We've got birds getting to them. And the odd squirrel."

"We'll have to put that stuff in the trash," said the security chief. "Can't take any chances as we don't what's in them."

* * *

><p><strong><em>FOUR DAYS<em>** **_before the wedding…_**

"There will be no dogs at the wedding." Rowan said firmly when he caught Jerry and Karen in the third floor centre hall, training the dogs to pull a toy sled with a doll tied to it.

"Yes, there will." Jerry glared back.

"No, there will not."

"Yes. There. Will."

Karen stared from one to the other, then surprised Rowan by reaching for his hand. "You don't understand. Mom and Dad said it's okay. The dogs are going to wear red bow ties and pull Teddy in a sled. Not this sled, but another one. A better one."

"Yeah," muttered Jerry, still glowering, "The Maintenance guys are organising the sled. And the red iron gazebo for the Rose Garden."

"And Teddy will have the rings," Karen added.

"Teddy can't hold the rings. He's a baby – he'll eat them."

"No, he won't," Jerry refuted. "The rings will be in the pocket of Teddy's baby tux. The pocket has a button."

"This is going to be a disaster," Rowan sighed.

"No, it won't," Karen smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

><p><strong><em>THREE DAYS<em>** **_before the wedding…_**

"Sally Langston sends her apologies. She won't be able to attend the Valentine's Day dinner, " Fitz told the Chief of Protocol.

"Has she scheduled an unavoidable illness for 7pm? I'm surprised Daniel Langston didn't want to make it for cocktails," Cyrus muttered as the Chief of Protocol left with the revised guest list.

"I believe, she has to fly to Georgia on an urgent family matter."

"Really? Has the daughter got herself pregnant with another deadbeat boyfriend?"

Fitz shot Cyrus a dry look. "What I will say is that I won't miss her. And on a related but completely different subject, this was one of your better suggestions to have a Valentine's Day Reception, in place of a formal wedding reception."

"Well, it's a convenient way to invite Cabinet and staff to the party, without worrying about World Leaders and Celebrities, but I don't see how Hollis Doyle fits in any appropriate category. Is it wise to have that criminally-inclined opportunist at your celebratory dinner when that snake has been wooing the Pretender to your office?"

"Olivia suggested it."

"Ah, of course. 'Friends close, but enemies closer'. Or should that be 'divide and rule'?"

"I believe it's 'an eye for an eye ends up making the whole world blind' – Mahatma Ghandi. Besides it's Valentine's Day. It's not a bad thing to spread the love a bit."

"Or better yet, get a chance to see the woman Hollis has in his sights to be his sixth wife." Cyrus smacked his knee and stood up. "Well, fun times are over. Time for that Cabinet Meeting, and then you're meeting with the Attorney General, who'll update you on the latest petition by the Gun Alliance."

"Then I fly to Iowa," Fitz muttered with a grim face.

"Yes, sir, to tour the Alcoa plant and talk about your plans to resurrect manufacturing in this country, then shake hands with a few school kids who will hopefully remind their parents to vote for you in November and you'll be back in time for the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Oh, and don't forget, you're picking up that Chinese kid on your way home."

"Cyrus, Peter's Malaysian."

"Yeah, whatever. Make sure you ID him. Just in case they send another kid in his place."

* * *

><p>"Why are we hiding in the Music Room?" Olivia asked as Fitz pulled her down onto one of the mini staircases on either side of the raised platform.<p>

"We're not hiding, we're making beautiful music together," Fitz grinned, cupping her face in both hands and kissing her softly. Then he drew back and whispered, "Listen."

"I can't hear anything."

"That's what I mean."

She chuckled, sliding her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. "It'll be over soon."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying this. I really am."

"But…?"

"One minute?"

"One minute." She settled more closely in the crook of his shoulder, as he pressed a smile against her forehead and tightened his arms around her.

Their heartbeats synchronised, just like their breathing, and Olivia closed her eyes, feeling a deep well of contentment just letting the seconds tick by.

"I think that's more than a minute," she chuckled eventually, although she made no move to shift away and Fitz made no move to release her.

"Fly with me to Iowa."

She drew back then, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. "Carlita, Sameera and the Guildfords will be arriving today. I have to be here to settle them in the Blair House complex."

He turned and kissed her palm. "Maybe I should leave Jerry behind to help out."

"No, he needs a break from my dad."

Fitz chuckled and gave her one last kiss, before helping her up off the steps.

* * *

><p><strong><em>TWO DAYS before the wedding…<em>**

_Fashion First and Always _Live interview with Eileen Perry and Fred Au, Associate Professors of Fashion, as well Dora Dragosavich, Fashion Instructor at Parsons School of Design …

"Is this true - Parsons School of Design will be making the Future First Lady's wedding dress? Everything about the wedding has been Top Secret so this is a real scoop!"

"We have received Ms Pope's permission to speak about the work our students are doing. And it's actually two outfits. One for the actual wedding ceremony which is planned for the morning, and one for the Valentine's Day dinner that evening."

"Ah yes, the informal wedding reception that's not really a wedding reception. But isn't this thrilling for your students to be involved in such a prestigious class project? We'll we see avant garde fashions – like leather and faux fur?"

"Felicia Adams—"

"Is that Ms Pope's step mother?"

"I believe there's a close family connection, although I can't say for sure, but we've known Felicia for years. And she was very precise in what she wanted for Ms Pope. She was adamant that the designs had to reflect Ms Pope's dignity as Future First Lady while exhibiting our fashion forward ideas that our students and alumni are famous for."

"Yes, you have a lot of famous graduates – like Donna Karen, I'm wearing one of her dresses. Gorgeous, isn't it? Love the red colour and it's wool blend so it's nice and warm in this cold weather. And I'm wearing the Eau de Parfum spray by Narciso Rodriquez. Lovely and sensuous. But the list of alumni also includes my wedding dress designer Lela Rose, meanswear icon Tom Ford, and the up and coming Jason Wu."

"Some of our alumni will be helping on the project as advisors. So there'll be experience mixed with enthusiasm for this invaluable learning assignment. And due to the tight deadline, in a positive sense, this project has galvanised the whole school, not just the fashion department."

"Are there any spoilers you can give us about the designs?"

"Only that our Future First Lady will wear a knee-length outdoor ensemble for the wedding ceremony, and an evening dress for dinner. The latter will be more in keeping with the theme of the day."

"Ooh, that's sounds fittingly mysterious and now I can't wait to see what Olivia Pope will be wearing on the day that she marries President Fitzgerald Grant the Third. And be sure to join us here at _Fashion First and Always _for the latest on that story…"

* * *

><p><strong><em>THE DAY<em>** **_before the wedding…_**

"I've been held up," Fitz sighed over the phone.

"I know. It's okay. Cyrus has offered to stand in for you at the rehearsals."

"Wow, global warming is a reality in his corner of the world."

Olivia laughed. "How was Iowa?"

"Good. Great. I think we have another Presidential candidate in the family."

"Perfect!" she laughed.

"Livvie…"

"Yes, Fitz."

"You know, it'll be great. No matter what happens"…

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, we have a problem in the kitchen," The chief usher said, appearing on the threshold of her new office, where she was in the middle of confirming her schedule with the Social Secretary.<p>

"Normally, we'd take care of it," The usher added apologetically, "But since it involves your friend…"

Olivia walked into the main kitchen on the ground floor of the White House, to find Abby holding a gun at a cowering woman in a blue pantsuit; with several agents training their guns on Abby.

"Good afternoon, how are we all doing today," Olivia said, smiling at everyone including the chef and his assistants who were crowding into the farthest end of the room. "Abby, why are you holding a gun at Tracy from _Cakes Galore_ Magazine? Tracy, are you okay?"

Her eyes scrunched shut, Tracy nodded uttering a small whimper of sound.

"Don't ask her if she's okay! Ask me! You should have heard her going on and on about Charles and what he did to put me in hospital. And she wanted to know how he ended up with a broken kneecap! It's like what happened with Harrison! She's a snoop and I want to know who sent her!"

"Nobody sent me!" Tracy whimpered. "My brother is a bartender and he says that Charles Putney comes in most nights and starts rambling on about his bitch ex-wife Abby and her vicious fixer friend."

Abby and Olivia exchanged a glance, then Olivia said pleasantly, "Abby, give me the gun."

The agents lowered their weapons as Abby handed over the gun. Then they all ducked with a gasp, when Olivia fired the gun at one of the pans suspended over the sous chef's island bench. The pellet hit the pan, resulting in a splotch of bright yellow followed by a reverberating silence.

The chef was the first to react. "It's a paint gun! Phew! I thought I'd have to dig a bullet out of my favourite fry pan."

"Washable paint spray," Abby smiled. "Don't worry, chef, I don't buy the cheap stuff."

"But it looks just like a handgun," said the discomfited reporter.

"But it isn't," Olivia said. "Now, I understood that you were here to take pictures of Abby's cake making, with help from the White House staff, not do an expose of her private life. Do you think you can keep to the original brief?"

"Er, yes, ma'am."

"Good, as you were." Olivia paused. "Actually, no. As you should be." Then tucking a hand into Abby's arm and tugged her out into the corridor.

"Okay, okay, I won't threaten that woman with anything, not even a gluegun," Abby said drolly, before Olivia could speak.

"Abby! Where is your real gun?"

"In my cookie jar. You know the one shaped like a Tabby Cat. I didn't think I could get it past the Secret Service. So I left it at home."

"Please take it out of your cookie jar and put it in the safe. I can't have one of Olivia Pope and Associates walking around with a gun, when it's against the law in DC."

"And your future husband is waging war on guns."

"Yes."

* * *

><p><strong><em>11.59pm THE NIGHT<em>** **_before Valentine's Day…_**

Olivia stared at the clock radio on the night-table, waiting. Then just when she decided to grab her cell phone, it rang.

"Perfect timing," she chuckled huskily. "How was the flight?"

"Uneventful. Can I sneak over to see you?"

"No, it's bad luck." Olivia murmured, seeing the clock tick over to midnight. "How's Peter?"

"Gone straight to bed. And so has Jerry. I hear Karen is having a sleepover with you."

"Yep, she didn't want me to get scared, staying by myself in this bad place." Olivia smiled. But Fitz sounded serious when he asked,

"How do you feel about being in the Blair House complex?"

"It's not Blair House. It's Trowbridge House and I'm fine. I get that it'll be a lot easier for me to get to the White House via the basement, than to try and dodge traffic in the morning. Besides it's nice being with everyone here."

"Even Felicia?"

She chuckled. "Okay, you got me."

"So I heard that Jerry and I missed a fun-filled day."

Olivia snuffled a laugh. "That's one way of putting it."

"Tell me about it. Tom just heard the bare bones from the agents on your detail."

"Everything was going fine until one of the kids found Abby's paintball gun, and popped the balloons the staff had got for the kids. The noise scared the dogs who ran straight into the middle of the Marine band. Then while we were trying to pick everyone up off the ground, the dogs went racing across the snow on the South Lawn. And we all had to go chasing after them but we never found the doll that was attached to the sled, for training purposes. And that was just the wedding rehearsal.

"Then at dinner my dad and Cyrus got into an argument about _some_ minorities being more equal than others, which got everyone yelling. Then someone knocked over the sugar sculpture centrepiece and it nearly fell on Carlita and Sameera. They're both okay – I got the White House doctor to check them out for concussion, but they said there was no direct impact.

"After that we took everyone down to the basement bowling alley, hoping physical activity would mend a few bridges, but the Guilfords and Quinn got lost. I think they just wandered off looking at pictures but we had a major Security alert. Then we decided to call it a night, but when we got back to the Blair House complex, Harrison and Huck told the kids ghost stories and they refused to go to bed."

"Then what happened?"

"Zeke and Oscar had to go into each of their bedrooms, with their ghost-busting weapons – which was Zeke's walking stick and Oscar's briefcase – and after a lot of shouting and screaming, they caught the ghosts and took the ghosts away to be locked up in the White House basement. It was very entertaining. I hope those two got back to the White House okay."

Fitz chuckled."Yeah, we're having an impromptu buck's night in the upstairs kitchen."

"You guys need to go to bed. One of you is getting married today."

He chuckled softly. "Is it bad that I want us to skip the wedding and just go straight to the honeymoon?"

"Not really, not when my dresses won't be ready until 9 and the wedding is at 10.30am."

"I'd marry you, even if you turned up wearing a bedsheet."

She laughed. "Well, you might just me see in one of those."

They fell silent listening to each breathe. Then he said softly, "Livvie…?"

"Yes, baby?"

"It'll be fine, no matter what happens."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Helloooooo! Sorry for the delay. This was going to be the wedding chapter, but then the scene with Abby popped into my head (originally she was at her own house – then I remembered that the Secret Service would not have allowed her to make anything for the President that they hadn't scrutinised first – so off to the White House kitchen and using their ingredients!). Then I had the scene with Rowan and the kids in the hallway teaching the dogs to pull a sled – and then I had writer's block! Aaargh! But hopefully this sort of makes sense!**

**So I couldn't decide on a designer for the wedding dress (mostly because I don't do fashion – I'm a Target, K-Mart, what's on clearance kind of girl) – and then I accidentally came across the Parsons School of Design in New York – and was incredibly impressed by the number of quality graduates: ****_Donna Karen, Tom Ford, Jason Wu, Prabal Gurung, Mark Badgley and James Mischka, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez, Isaac Mizrahi. The list just goes on and on…Marc Jacobs, Proenza Schouler, Anna Sui, Tracy Reese, Narciso Rodriguez and of course Carly Cushnie and Michelle Ochs. _****Whew. Oh and Jason Wu is up and coming because seriously if Michelle Obama hadn't worn his dress at the first Inauguration – would the world have heard of him that quickly? The power of politics in fashion!****BTW, Parson's School of Design is real, but everything else I've written in relation to it is not – including the instructors!**

**So for anyone who's reading this story without having read part one – Carlita Mendoza is Carolina Florez,wife of General Benicio Florez (the Scandal TV character that was rewritten in the chapter ****_Reality Check_**** in ****_A Presidential Divorce_****) and Sameera Hussein was Olivia's lawyer in the Alienation of Affection Case that Olivia was charged with in North Carolina again in Part I of this story. They are my two carry-over character references from the previous story. Sarah Stanner is a Scandal TV character - played by Lisa Edelstein in 2x16 Top of The Hour.  
><strong>


	21. Valentine's Day AM

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em>"…Brrr… it sure looks like hell hath frozen over in Washington DC… 10 inches of snow is what we all woke up to this morning. Schools, airports and government offices are closed. People are advised to stay off the roads as we've already had a few bad weather accidents. What about the Valentine's Day street parade? Is that cancelled? Actually, no the DC chief of police says that's going ahead once the snow ploughs have cleared the roads…"<em>

_"…We have a wedding at the White House today, and boy, is it going to be a white one. But a little bit of snow won't stop a Presidential Wedding from going ahead. Word is the First Bride's dress had to be flown in by a military helicopter. That is after the commercial flight it was meant to be flown in, first class, was cancelled. Even Valentine's Day events around the city are still going ahead, but my recommendation to you is: if you're heading to the National Mall, take a shovel and wear thermal underwear…"_

_"…The blizzard that swept through the northeast of the country may have put a pall on Valentine's Day flower deliveries, but nothing is going to stop the first White House wedding in 128 years. The folks up there were prepared for the snow storm and it's all systems go, as is the party on the U Street Corridor, though from what we hear it's now being called the Snow Party Downtown…"_

Fitz switched off the television and turned to Jerry and Tom, both resplendent in their tuxedos with red silk ties and rosebud boutonnieres.

"Let's do this," he grinned.

* * *

><p>Olivia stood in front of the window staring out at the thick snow on the ground. The bitter wind had subsided, settling the flurries of snow and the sun was out, shining its bright light on the snow covered tree branches outside her window at Trowbridge House.<p>

The wedding would have been warmer indoors, but when Fitz had called to ask if she wanted a change of venue – from the Rose Garden to the Red Room – she said no.

It didn't feel right to get married anywhere but the Rose Garden; the place where she and Fitz first declared the painful truth of their love. And the place where Fitz had offered, and she had accepted the promise of a future together. Now she and Fitz would finally become husband and wife in 'their place', in the Rose Garden.

She moved away from the window, breathing in the quiet of the room. The hair stylist, make-up artist, photographer, videographer, their assistants and Felicia had left, ostensibly to give her a moment to herself. She sat down on the edge of an armchair, willing herself to take that minute when all she wanted to do was race down and meet Fitz, who she knew was waiting just as impatiently for her.

In a few minutes her father would knock on the door and it would be time to walk through the basement tunnel.

Olivia got to her feet and walked over to the floor length mirror to take one last look at herself. Thankfully her dresses had arrived, and they were a perfect fit. She glanced from her ballerina-style up do, down her ivory white wool coat to her Louboutin ivory pumps. Other than her mother's earrings she wore no jewellery, and she had a stylised ivory satin flower in her hair instead of a veil.

The only thing missing now was her bouquet. Hopefully Felicia could find out what was causing the unexpected delay. Unexpected because unlike the weather delayed Valentine's floral deliveries all across the city, Olivia's flowers were arriving from the White House flower shop, that got its supply from the greenhouses above the West Colonnade.

"Olivia." Her father's authoritative voice broke into her thoughts, prompting her to hurry forward and open the door.

Rowan was wearing a charcoal grey morning suit, brightened with by a red silk jacquard tie, and matching handkerchief in his breast pocket.

Olivia smiled, watching her father's usually stern expression soften. For a moment, he looked at her, a sheen appearing in his eyes. "You look beautiful."

Olivia's felt a ripple of surprise at the emotion in his face and his voice. "Thank you, Dad," she said quietly, and after a pause she added, "You look handsome."

Rowan hesitated, then came into the room, closing the door. "Olivia, there is something I need to say to you, now that we have an unexpected cessation in hostilities."

"Dad.."

"Olivia, please, let me say this." He paused, looking at her. Then said quietly, "You are my daughter. I love you. I may not have shown that to you with affection, or even kindness at times. But I do love you and I want the best for you, always. And that is why I want you to know that I'm happy; I'm happy that you have found a man who makes you happy."

Olivia looked at her father, ignoring a sudden urge to give him a hug. Instead she said softly, "Thank you."

"But…"

Olivia sighed.

"But remember that in this marriage, you will be judged at a higher standard than your predecessor."

"Fitz loves me."

"I'm not talking about Fitz. I'm talking about the public who will stand in judgement of the first African American wife of a white Republican President. That is a heavy burden to bear, but I know you will bear it. Felicia and I will help you."

Olivia stopped herself from rolling her eyes, and muttered, "Thank you, Dad."

"Good. That's all I wanted to say. Shall we?"

She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm in relief and hurried her steps towards the door.

* * *

><p>Press release from Parsons School of Design…<p>

**_When you become the First Lady of our nation's Commander in Chief…_**

_…Ms Olivia Pope will be wearing a sleeveless, ivory silk-Mikado dress. The dress is shaped to fit with a round-yoke neck, structured bodice, and straight knee-length skirt. The bridal effect is enhanced with an embellishment of hand embroidered lace and bead trim at the neck; in addition to a close-stitched row of ivory satin buttons from neck to lower back…_

_…The bridal daywear ensemble will be completed with an ivory wool-silk coat. The coat is an ultra-feminine military style, with a raised round collar and subtle trumpet sleeves. The single-breasted, asymmetric opening tapers down to a tulip hem above the knee. Embellished with ivory satin buttons along the opening… _

* * *

><p>Olivia paused on the landing, gripping her father's arm, surprised to see familiar faces among the White House household staff, waiting at the bottom of the stairs.<p>

Then as she and Rowan reached the last step, one by one the senior staffers stepped forward and handed her a rose, in shades of white, pink and red; while at the same time, softly murmuring their best wishes.

The last staffer to step up was the White House Chief Floral Designer, who took the impromptu bouquet from Olivia's hands and deftly tied the roses with a red satin ribbon and handed them back, with a smile. "Your bouquet, ma'am," she murmured, as Olivia blinked away unexpected tears. "We wanted to surprise you."

* * *

><p>There was another surprise waiting for Olivia in the basement. Right at the entrance of the cold clinical tunnel was an agent, in the driver's seat of a golf cart decorated with ribbons and balloons. The sight made Olivia chuckle as she and her father took their seats in the back, and she laughed out loud when the agent drove with 'Here Comes The Bride', playing on a portable radio.<p>

She felt giddy with happiness by the time she entered the Cabinet Room and was greeted with squeals of delight from Quinn, Abby and Karen.

"You guys look so beautiful!" Olivia cried, giving them all a hug.

"Like the coat," Quinn grinned.

"Can we trade?" Abby asked, seriously.

"Mom, you look amazing," Karen said, her arms around Olivia's waist.

"So do you, Baby K," Olivia smiled.

The girls were wearing red organza and satin dresses, with matching red wool overcoats. Quinn and Abby were wearing red roses tucked into their French Braids, while Karen had rosebuds circling her ballerina bun.

Then Peter walked into the room carrying Teddy and Olivia rushed forward to give them hugs.

"You both look very handsome!" she grinned, taking Teddy in her arms so Peter could re-adjust his tie. Both boys were wearing black tuxedos with red satin cumberbands and ties.

Teddy looked especially cute in his custom-made baby Tux, and he seemed to find Olivia's outfit fascinating too, staring and cooing, then casually made a grab for her head.

"Give me that child," Rowan muttered as Olivia ducked in time.

Then the dogs barked and Olivia laughed, going over to pat them. They were all wearing red bow ties and had red leads, but only Daisy and Rex were attached to the red wooden sled, made of carved wood and roller skate wheels. This was done to avoid a repeat of the runaway dog train of the previous day, and it had been decided that Karen would sit in the sled holding Teddy on her lap.

Just then James entered through one of the glass paned doors and said, "Ready?"

And everyone quickly got into place. Quinn reached for Darth's lead and went out first, to be met on the open walkway by Huck; followed by Abby, holding Poppy's lead, paired with Harrison.

Next Olivia handed Karen her flower basket, while Peter took hold of the leads for Rex and Daisy and carefully pulled out of the room.

Olivia heard laughter through the open doorway from the small gathering of their friends, then the music of the Marine band changed from preppy show tunes to the Wedding March, and Rowan reached for her hand, tucking it through his arm.

They stepped onto the red carpet, strewn with rose petals, then paused at the sight of the Marines standing on either side of the platform, each one holding a red heart-shaped helium balloon.

Beaming with delight, her gaze arrowed towards the wedding gazebo, where Fitz, Tom and Jerry were waiting. And as their eyes met, Fitz blew her a kiss, sending another ripple of laughter through the seated crowd.

The final few steps to reach Fitz seemed to take forever, but finally they made it. And Olivia couldn't stop smiling, barely noticing that Rowan patted her hand before she slipped it from his arm and stepped towards Fitz, who immediately leaned forward whispering, "You're breathtaking" and kissed her.

"Daddy, you're supposed to wait until after," Karen protested, making everyone laugh again.

And then he was helping her onto the dais, and the officiant began speaking. "We are here today to witness and celebrate the union of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third and Olivia Carolyn Pope in marriage."

At which point, Fitz leaned in and gave Olivia another kiss, prompting the officiant to say dryly, "I believe that's my cue to hurry up."

There was more laughter that drifted into silence, as the officiant continued with the blessing: "May you stand united always in your love of each other and the love of your family. May you find joy in the good times; compassion and understanding in the sad. May you find strength to see each other through adversity, and the wisdom to grow and change with the seasons of time and circumstance. And may you find happiness even in the stillness and silence of each other's company. May you realise these blessing in the life you will share from this day forward…

"...Please repeat after me, Do you Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third, take Olivia Carolyn Pope to be your lawfully wedded wife, sharing your path, equal in love, through the joys and sorrows you will face in your life together?"

"I do."

"And do you Olivia Carolyn Pope, take Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third and his children, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth, Karen Michaela and Theodore Wallace to love, cherish and keep in the life you will share together?"

"I do." Olivia said a split second before, Jerry, Karen and Teddy said,

"She does."

"We do."

"Blah!"

"The little dude agrees."

Again there were ripples of laughter.

"Now do we have the rings?"

Peter stepped forward carrying Teddy and Jerry reached over to unbutton Teddy's tux pocket and then he looked horrified, just as Fitz looked horrified, then Peter muttered, "Stop playing, man."

Jerry grinned handing over the rings, as Olivia chuckled and Fitz gave a wry look, and glanced down to make sure he had Olivia's eternity band that she usually wore on her index finger, and his new gold band with an eternity symbol engraved on the inside.

Taking her ring, Fitz gazed deep into Olivia's eyes and said huskily, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you, which has no beginning and no end. I am yours today, and for all our tomorrows."

Blinking back tears, Olivia murmured in turn, "I give you this ring, as I give to you all that I am and accept from you, all that you are."

Then the officiant said, "I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr President. Again."

Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed as cheers, whistles and clapping erupted, and red balloons were released to float up to the sky.

And after being surrounded by hugs and kisses, the newly wedded couple eventually made it to the Oval Office to sign their marriage certificate.

* * *

><p><em>"…I hope all you folks watching at home can hear me, because the moment we saw those balloons go up, on the big screens at the National Mall, the crowds here went wild, hollering and screaming. Some were even crying. With joy I think. And I'm pretty sure I've burst an ear drum! Oh and there's another roar, because we've got the Blue Angels doing their fly past… Hey! Did they just do a love heart? Sure looked like a love heart…"<em>

_"…The party has just begun on U Street. They're popping champagne and passing around cake. But it looks like the snow making competitions have been upstaged by a kissing contest. Although the clear winner in that department is our President. Loved the way he planted that smackeroo on the new Mrs Grant. He didn't just kiss her once. I lost count how many times he did kiss her - before, during and after the ceremony. Le Sigh big time…" _

"…_Okay, admission time. I'm a hard core cynic when it comes to Valentine's Day. I don't do roses and chocolates when February 14__th__ rolls around. Nope, not ever, that's not for me. What you'll see me doing is celebrating at a Stupid Cupid Party or Worst Date Ever Happy Hour. But that all changed today. I gotta say there's just something that turns you into mush watching two people in love. And the new Mrs Grant didn't just marry the President, she said 'I do' to the whole family…"_

* * *

><p>Back at the White House, the formal pictures had given way to candid shots with dogs and stray balloons photo-bombing frequently. Not that Fitz or Olivia cared as they were kissing in most of them.<p>

"Jeez, Dad, do you realise you're wearing more of Mom's lipstick than Mom is?" said Jerry dryly, then roared with laughter when Olivia and Fitz hauled him between them and kissed his cheeks. This prompted a laugh from a watching Rowan and Cyrus, who glanced at each other, then went their separate ways.

Once the photos were taken, the kids ran off to play in the snow, taking the dogs with them, while the adults drifted into conversation, enjoying pre-luncheon drinks and canapés.

Then Tom appeared to tell Mr and Mrs Grant their car was ready to take them to church.

The Secret Service standing on the Portico steps was impressive, but the sight of what they had done to the Presidential limousine had Olivia and Fitz breaking out in laughter.

"We heard you wanted a Vegas Wedding, sir," Tom said solemnly. "Since you couldn't have that, we thought this might work instead," he added in reference to the giant sparkling love hearts on top of the car, proclaiming the words 'Just Married'.

"You don't seriously expect us to drive around the city in that, do you?" Fitz shook his head with a rueful grin.

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Fitz. It'll be great!" Olivia laughed, taking hold of his hand and blowing a kiss to Tom and the other agents. "Thank you, guys! This is awesome!"

"Awesome?" Fitz raised a brow, once they were snuggled up inside.

"Awesome," Olivia grinned.

Fitz smiled, looking at her shining with happiness and he felt a fierce, protective joy. "We're married, Mrs Grant."

"I know, Mr Pope."

"Hey, that makes me sound like your dad."

"Eww!"

He laughed, tightening his arms around her as the car exited the gates and entered Pennsylvania Avenue. Then glanced around when she gasped, "Look at all those people!"

There were people waving at them, holding up signs and taking pictures, but the crowd noise was blocked out by the sound proofing in the car.

"Let's go and say hello."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Do you realise that this is the only time I'm going to have alone with you, for at least another couple of hours?"

Olivia settled her head on his shoulder and said softly, "Don't think I don't know when you're hiding something from me."

"What makes you think that?" he mumbled against her forehead.

"I know you," she smiled as the car made its way slowly towards the two DC churches where they were to receive blessings as a married couple.

* * *

><p>Wedding Luncheon Menu on the White House Chef Instagram…<p>

**_Starters…_**

_Caribbean Jerk Chicken skewers with cucumber cilantro dipping sauce_

_Tempeh pot stickers with soy dipping sauce_

_Mini lobster rolls_

_Mac and Cheese 'muffins'_

_Halal lamb koftas with mint yogurt dipping sauce_

_Miniature fish tacos_

_Antipasto kebab skewers_

_Smoked Barbeque Ribs (halal)_

_Stuffed mushroom with fresh herbs_

_Vegetable samosas_

_Halal beef sliders (vegetarian option: spiced chickpea patties)_

**_Afters…_**

_Dessert Buffet &_

_Wedding cake: Red Velvet Cake with Ermine Icing and sugared roses_

* * *

><p>Jerry's Instagram…<p>

_1) Teddy nodding off during Rowan's speech (yep, it was boring); Teddy snoring during Dad's speech (too Presidential) _

_2) Ella likes the cheesecake pop on James' plate more than hers; changes her mind and hands it back to James, half eaten  
><em>

_3) Baby K shares her root-beer float with her dress; Abby and Quinn help clean her up._

_4) Mom and Dad caught kissing again (x20!) and there's Cyrus looking on (dis)approvingly as we all wait for cake_

_5) Peter and Harrison lead the kids in a hip hop dance, to the music of Yo-Yo Ma, Bobby McFerrin and the Marine Band_

_6) Virginia Guilford, Sameera Hussein, Carlita Mendoza and James Novak tell Mum the secrets of marriage. Here's Mom shocked, amazed, 'I ain't doing that' and laughing _

_ 7) Huck and Oscar assist Zeke do magic tricks. Dad wants to know how they got Darth into a hat, let alone how they pulled him out of it. Answer: Classified_

_8) Hank Guilford and Obeid Hussein talk about the Seahawks winning this year's Superbowl. Hank said Bruno Mars was great with his James Brown moves, but Beyonce shut it down in 2013 (literally!)_

_9) Tom smiles getting his third slice of cake from Felicia. There's a line of Marines waiting after him; Carlita comes over to help  
><em>

_10) Mom and Dad dance the wedding waltz, then the Macarena, and here's me shaking my head at Dad's moves; here's me going to rescue Mom_

_11) Mom and Dad thank the clean-up crew, with hugs, kisses and wedding thank you gifts._

_12) Mom and Dad thank the White House kitchen and wait staff. More gifts and hugs. "Great Job!" Now they have to get ready for the evening session. That's for the grown-ups (read: Boring!) so no pictures from me…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, that was the wedding part One… I've waited long enough to see OLITZ married, so went all out in describing my version of events! Took a long time deciding on what Olivia should wear, changed my mind so often I thought Jerry would be running for President by the time I finished this chapter. Anyway, I thought I should post this before the bridal outfit gets changed for the 9999999****th**** time! **

**But I did have a LOT of fun researching wedding outfits; discovering Cristobel Balenciaga and (the real) Dior and that I like fashions of the 1950s when dresses were designed for women not Sponge Bob Squarepants. **

**Have also acquired a whole new vocabulary in fashion: tulip skirt, bell skirt, balloon skirt, trenchcoat, steampunk, Lolita etc, but it's still not enough – there were so many outfits that looked good in pictures that I didn't know how to describe in text, and I'm also not sure how fabric feels from Google images- so I wasn't sure which fabric combinations would create static!**

**Anyway as Google gives 50 different versions of everything… here's where I got my inspiration for Olivia's outfit : Pinterest number: 259590365995095040 for the top part of her coat (forget the fabric in the actual images). The bottom half is based on Ted-baker-button-front-plaid-tulip-skirt-light-grey on Lyst DOT com. Olivia's dress has been ripped off from Rose Clara 204 Badajoz/101 Babel styles. **

**Also the wedding party has too many men – Tom and Jerry (heh, heh, couldn't resist) plus Harrison and Huck, but we'll take it that Harrison and Huck just escorted Abby and Quinn down the aisle and then took their seats. I just didn't want to leave them out!**

**The wedding ceremony was inspired by Google searches , including this fantastic site that gave the wedding speeches – I can't find the link in my multiple notes. Will try and include it in the next chapter…**


	22. Valentine's Day PM

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Why don't I just cut these with scissors?" Fitz grumbled, working his way down her back, unfastening the white satin buttons on her dress.<p>

"No!" Olivia protested, "This dress has to go on exhibition."

"What exhibition?"

"The exhibition of the first African American wife of a white Republican President." When Fitz angled his head to look at her, she chuckled. "Something my dad said."

His hands left her dress to circle her waist from behind, pulling her against his naked chest. "What else did he say," he murmured, against her neck.

"He's happy that you make me happy." She leaned her head against his, sliding her hands over his arms.

He pressed a kiss into her skin, tracing the curve of her stomach, feeling his way up to her breasts. Then he gusted a laugh, when she whispered on a thread of urgency, "Take my dress off and do that again."

In the end he got enough buttons undone to help her shimmy out of her dress, taking her blue lace and satin panties with it.

"So this is your something blue?" he rumbled deeply, turning her to face him, smoothing his hands over the bare curve of her hips, all the way up her back until he reached her bra to unfasten and toss it aside.

"Yes…" she sighed, melting against him as his hands caressed her in long, massaging strokes.

"Men are so lucky. They just need to turn up in whatever." She kissed a path along his collar bone, sliding her hands down his back to squeeze his buttocks.

He gave a soft grunt. "I put on my best whatever for you. It was new too."

She drew back, looking at him, sultry and teasing, as her hands moved round between them to unfasten his pants.

"Livvie…" He leaned in, nipping her lips gently. making her chuckle; then gasp, when he hoisted her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

Laying her down gently, he unzipped his pants, then laughed when she pulled him down to her impatiently; peppering him with kisses, as she used her hands, thighs and feet to slide the last of his clothes off and get him completely naked.

He drew back slightly, sliding his arms around her as he lay there, watching her face until she touched fingertips to his jaw and whispered,

"What?"

The smile in his eyes spread slowly over his lips, making her laugh and she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

* * *

><p>Sally Langston scowled at the big screen TV in her living room in Georgia. "I cannot believe people are <em>celebrating<em> this marriage."

"Celebrating the marriage and Presidency of Fitzgerald Grant the Third," Daniel said mildly, flipping a page on his magazine.

"This is a disgrace! To have all my hard work destroyed by two hedonists who mock the sanctity of marriage! They embrace the ills and none of the goodness of this great nation of ours! The office of the President shall not defiled in this manner! I will not have it!"

Daniel tossed the magazine aside and got to his feet. "I believe we should get ready for the Grant Valentine's Day Dinner."

"We are not going to that… that...that _orgy_! I have already sent Fitzgerald my apologies!" Sally Langston glared at her husband.

"You may have sent your apologies, Sally, but you haven't sent mine," Daniel Douglas smiled. "I don't recall the last time we celebrated Valentine's Day as a couple. It's time you and I refreshed our memory."

"Daniel Douglas Langston, will you listen to me! We are not going to that dinner, unless it is Fitzgerald Grant's last supper!"

"Then you better let Air Force Two know that we will be returning to DC tonight."

* * *

><p>"Sir, Sodom and Gomorrah have decided to attend the dinner after all."<p>

"What are you talking about, Cy?" Fitz muttered into the phone, as he lazily traced circles on Olivia's bare back.

"I have just got word that Sally and Daniel Douglas Langston are able to make our little soiree after all. Shall I get a priest in to do an exorcism? Or just ask the guards to barricade the gates?"

Fitz groaned softly, prompting Olivia to lift her head off his chest and look at him.

"Sally," he mouthed, then to Cyrus he added, "We can put them on the same table as Olivia's late arrivals, Sarah Stanner and her husband Phil."

"Ah, yes, with the outcasts. I like that."

"What did he say," Olivia asked curiously as Fitz ended the call with a chuckle.

"He's putting Sally on the table with your outcasts."

"Fitz, you promised to be nice to Sarah."

"Mmm." He gave her a soft look, gathering her closer in his arms. "I will."

"So Sally will be here tonight?" Olivia mumbled against his teasing lips.

"Yes. Guess her family emergency wasn't that much of an emergency."

She drew back. "Then we should get dressed… if Sally's coming."

He gusted a laugh. "Yeah… for only that reason."

"And because Felicia will be here with her troupe of makeover experts," Olivia scrunched her nose.

He raised a brow. "You don't need a makeover."

"Have you met Felicia? Woman who wears colours; thinks I'm bland?"

"You're beautiful even when you're bland."

She laughed, kissing him. "You're good to have around."

"Glad you realise that, Mrs Grant."

* * *

><p>An hour later, Olivia was standing in her bathrobe glaring at Felicia.<p>

"I am not going down to dinner in my natural hair!"

Felicia folded her arms across her chest and said firmly, "Olivia, I let you have your own way at your wedding ceremony – that was your moment. But now, you are introducing your brand as the First Lady. Not to your friends and family who love you, but to people who will judge you."

Olivia took a breath, then said evenly, "Okay, you need to get a few things straight, Felicia. One – you didn't _let_ me do anything. I am a grown woman and what I do is of _my_ own choosing; you are _not_ my caretaker."

"That wasn't what I meant," Felicia waved her words aside as if they were pesky flies. "I'm someone who has worked with image and I know how to present it. That's my forte – pictures, not words. Words are what you're good at, Olivia."

Olivia ignored the interruption. "Two – I am not a product. I don't have a _brand_. I married Fitz because I love him and he loves me. Three – I am not some naïve child who walked into the White House with my eyes wide shut. I know these people. I have worked with these people. I was even part of this administration at one time. So I know how to _present_ myself to these people – and I will be doing that as _myself_! "

"You may know these people as Olivia Pope, the crisis manager, with your power suits and white woman hair. And they see you as the typical corporate woman, a little tanned but acceptable," Felicia said coldly, "But you are not a crisis manager now, Olivia. You are First Lady, a wife and a mother, but more than that you are a _black _woman. Own it! Be the black woman who faced down those punks in white hoods; the black woman who made us proud you were speaking _for_ us! Be proud of your heritage! Show the world who _you _are! "

Felicia's ringing words faded into silence, then Alisa the make-up artist cleared here throat. "Excuse me, ladies, do you need a moment to decide where y'all are at, in Black History Month?"

Tia, the hair stylist glanced at Alisa. "They're going to need more than a moment. Where they at, is some other kind of history."

When Olivia and Felicia looked at Tia, she shrugged. "I'm just saying ." Then added, "Not that I mind waiting and all, but is this going to take long? Because my babysitter needs to be home by a certain time."

Felicia looked back at Olivia,

"Fine." Olivia muttered.

* * *

><p>Once she was alone again, Olivia glanced at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the silk taffeta dress.<p>

It wasn't bland. It was bold, just the way Felicia liked it.

Olivia adjusted the off-the-shoulder hand-beaded burgundy top, smoothed her hand over the red satin waistband, down to the bronze column skirt.

Besides her gold wedding ring, the only other pieces of jewellery she wore were gold bar drop earrings, but she didn't want to look at them. Not yet.

She reached for her red satin purse that matched her red satin pumps. And finally glanced at her hair – a loose halo of soft glossy corkscrew curls that fell to her shoulders.

Smoothing out the frown on her brow, she firmed her red-painted lips and turned away from the mirror, to go in search of Fitz and the kids.

She found them in Jerry's room with everyone crowding around the computer.

As she entered, they all turned around and for a long moment, no one spoke. Then Jerry breathed, "Wow, Mom, you look awesome."

"Da Bomb," Peter added, prompting a look from Jerry.

"Da Bomb?"

"Yeah, that's what Harrison said – Aunt Liv is Da Bomb, Da Bawz and Da Badass."

"You look beautiful, Mommy," Karen said, then asked shyly, "Is it okay for me to give you a hug?"

"Always, Baby K," Olivia grinned, holding out her arms.

Karen sprang into them, hugging her tightly. Then looking at Olivia's hair, she said, "Can I have my hair like that?"

Olivia chuckled, buzzing a kiss on her cheek. "I can ask Tia to curl it the next time she comes over and does my hair. Okay?"

Karen nodded, touching a curl with a fingertip.

The only person who hadn't spoken was Fitz, but then he hadn't stopped staring at her from the moment she'd walked in either.

"Ready to go?" Olivia tilted her head in query, setting Karen back on her feet.

"Not yet!" Jerry said. "Hey, Pete, take a picture of Mom and me."

"Me too!" Karen snuck in between them.

Then it was Peter's turn.

"Dad?" Jerry turned to Fitz.

Without a word, Fitz moved towards Olivia, his gaze unwavering as he slid his arms around her and brought her close; then unexpectedly nuzzled his face into her hair with a soft groan.

"Fitz," Olivia said huskily, feeling a hot blush, that was a heady mix of arousal, pleasure and embarrassment, all the way down to her toes. "The kids…"

Still keeping his arms around her, he glanced around. Then his chuckle joined Olivia's giggle at the sight of Jerry holding one hand over Karen's eyes, and the other over Peter's, while his own were screwed shut.

"Is it safe to look?" Jerry asked. "Has Dad got his sex face under control?"

"Shut up, Jer," Fitz leaned his head against Olivia's with a smile. "And take your picture."

* * *

><p>"You have to stop doing that?" Olivia whispered to Fitz, as they walked down the red carpet towards the East Room.<p>

"What?'

"Staring at me."

"Then you shouldn't have worn your hair like that. I've got an image of you wet and naked, while we make out in the shower, stuck in my mind," he whispered, his lips tickling her ear.

"You are a very bad man," she said, flushing hotly, trying to take a step away from him, but his arm around her waist stopped her.

"I can be worse. Let's go find the nearest closet."

"Fitz!" Olivia protested, but lifted her face when he lowered his head and teased her lips with a smiling kiss.

Then the doors opened to the room, revealing members of the US Cabinet already gathered there – with the men wearing red glittering top hats, and the women wearing red dresses and all of them holding red heart-shaped balloons.

As Fitz and Olivia entered, the band struck up a tune and everyone started singing '_Can't Help Falling In Love With You_' .

After a momentary pause, a smiling Fitz turned a blushing Olivia into his arms for a slow waltz; then a not- so-slow waltz, as the unexpected choristers continued with '_You are the Sunshine of My Life'. _

At the end of that song, the balloons were released towards the roof. And there were cheers and clapping, as Fitz and Olivia were surrounded by hugs and kisses. Then champagne bottles popped, and champagne flutes were passed around and toasts were made to the happy couple.

Fitz joked with his executive staff. "I didn't know you guys could carry a tune that well."

"We've been practising for nearly a month!"

"Wow, and you all managed to keep it a secret."

"Yeah, funny that. But we kept our enemy spies entertained by finding novel ways to sneak into each others' homes."

"Don't forget the garage."

"And the boat house."

"Or the Pentagon chief's office."

There was laughter.

Then the other guests started to arrive. Including the other cabinet-level staff, the first of whom were Cyrus and James.

"Ah, our two lovebirds!" Cyrus gave them a hug, followed by a loud kiss on each of their cheeks. "Great job! Just great! Just keep it coming! Keep-it-coming! Now where's the champagne?" He strolled off, rubbing his hands together.

"Who was that?" Fitz gaped at Cyrus' departing back.

"Did you give him something?" Olivia asked James. "And whatever it was, can you give us a supply?"

"He's been talking to the pollsters. There's been a sharp spike in approval ratings. The news stations have been playing the wedding ceremony on a loop, people are still having Valentine's Day Presidential parties across the country and just about everyone that anyone talks to, is in love with the First Couple and the First Family, even the First Dogs." James beamed. "So can I pay you to keep getting married every second week? Because my husband sang in the shower today, and you know I didn't think that would happen until Sally Langston was sent on a one way ticket to Mars."

Fitz chuckled. "We'll see what we can do."

* * *

><p>"You look amazing," Sarah Stanner said, when the guests were circulating while cocktails were being served.<p>

"The curls?" Olivia laughed as they drifted towards a quiet corner of the room.

"The happiness." Sarah glanced at Fitz, talking with her husband Phil a little distance away. "I'm glad things worked out better for you than it did for me."

Olivia tilted her head. "But you and Phil are together. And business is doing great, you were on last year's Forbes list of 50 most influential business leaders."

Sarah inched Olivia further out of earshot. "We're working on it, being a family. That's why we couldn't make it this morning. The kids didn't want to come. And Phil…" Sarah paused, giving a wry shrug. "I feel like signing an affidavit, that I'm not having an affair every time I work late or travel on business."

"Are you seeing Murray Randall?"

Sarah shook her head. "No."

"Do you want to see him?"

"No." Sarah looked at Olivia. "I cost him a Supreme Court Judgeship, and… I want to be with Phil, and my kids." She paused before adding, "You know I hated your husband's administration for a long time for what they did to me - slut-shaming me in the media. I get that politics is vicious, almost as vicious as corporate America, but the way these people made me look in order to protect Murray, made me bitter."

"But you've been donating to my husband's campaign," Olivia gave a quizzical smile. "Very generously."

"He defended you against his crazy wife on national television. He put his whole future on the line to be the first President to get a divorce so he could marry you." Sarah Stanner gave a wobbly smile. "He fought for you, Olivia. Fought for you in a way that no man has ever fought for me. It's nice when men say they love you with more than just words… Or sex."

Olivia reached out and gripped Sarah's hand. "That time I was helping you, Fitz and I weren't in a good place. I didn't think we would make it. Or that I had a right to even dream we could. But here we are." She tightened her grip on Sarah's hand. "You are a strong woman. People sometimes take your strength for granted."

"You didn't. You stood in my corner when I had no one."

"I was just doing my job."

"No, I know people who just do their jobs. You don't work like them."

"It must have been the wine," Olivia teased. "No one else has popped open a $300 bottle of wine, like they're giving me a beer, to tell me their problems."

Sarah smiled. "I've restocked my supply. I think we need to have another girls' night in, without the paparazzi."

"Oh definitely, without them!"

* * *

><p>"What was that about?" Fitz murmured, when Sarah and Phil Stanner moved away to join another group.<p>

"I was setting up a wine date with one of my husband's campaign donors," Olivia leaned into the familiar weight of his arm curved around her waist.

"Your husband, huh?"

"My husband."

"I like when you say that. Almost as much I like imagining my wife naked."

Olivia elbowed him, laughing. "Stop it!"

He grinned at her, then murmured, "So that's the woman who cost me Murray Randall."

"No, that's the woman who almost lost her job, her family and her dignity because she found comfort with another man, when her own marriage was going through a rocky time. Cyrus nearly destroyed everything she had, because you wanted to protect Murray Randall's reputation."

"You helped her."

"I helped her when she needed me to. You should be able to relate to that. In more ways than one."

Fitz raised a brow. "Are we having a fight?"

"We are," she smiled at him, batting her lashes.

He chuckled softly. "Can we go back to the part where you were calling me 'your husband' and I was imagining you naked."

Olivia elbowed him again. "That part?"

He grunted. "You don't play nice when you're mad, my darling wife."

"Neither do you."

"Mm," Fitz gave a soft chuckle, leaning in for a kiss but stopped when a voice said happily,

"Ah, my two lovebirds at it again."

Olivia and Fitz drew apart to see Cyrus smiling beatifically. "Oh, don't let me interrupt."

When they continued to stare at him, he said blithely, "Well, now that I have interrupted, a little birdy told me that Sally and Daniel will be delayed. I'm hoping for the entire night, but you I don't want to be greedy, when I have been given so much tonight. As you were!" He patted their arms, and went off in search of James.

"Should we start worrying?" Fitz muttered.

Olivia giggled, linking her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Well now, I know it's Valentine's and all, but you might want to limit your PDAs as a kindness to those of us, challenged by cupid's arrow, that darned cherub has done a piss poor job of finding my Southern Comfort ass as his target."

Olivia and Fitz turned to find Hollis Doyle grinning at them.

"Hollis Doyle, how lovely to see you." Olivia smiled.

"You didn't bring a date?" Fitz raised a brow.

"No, I'm trying to lose some weight in the ball and chain department." Hollis smiled. "But enough about me. Where are my manners? Congratulations, Mr President and our new and improved First Lady, Mrs Olivia Grant."

"Thank you," Olivia glanced at Fitz as Hollis grabbed her by the arms and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on each cheek.

Then taking Fitz's hand in a gripping handshake, he grinned, "Now this is what I call progress when we can have our little secret power meetings out in the open, at a grand gala no less! Instead of skulking in the White House kitchen. And with a leaner, meaner team!"

"We could invite Sally Langston to join the team." Fitz muttered easing his hand out of Hollis' grasp.

"Oh, now there's no fun sneaking around, if all your hos come home to roost," Hollis chuckled as he sauntered away.

"Did he just call me a ho?" Fitz asked.

"I think he did," Olivia bit back a grin.

* * *

><p>Olivia had just come off the dance floor with the Secretary of Agriculture and was making her way to the Ladies', when a Secret Service agent approached.<p>

"Ma'am, please come with me."

"What? Why? What's happened?" Olivia's gaze swiftly swept across the room, but her pulse calmed when she spotted Fitz talking to a group of senior staff by the cupid ice sculpture.

"Ma'am, Mr Daniel Langston would like to have a word with you."

"Daniel? They're here? I didn't see Sally Langston and her husband arrive."

"They haven't arrived as such, ma'am," the agent said, directing her downstairs to the ground floor. "Mr Langston is in the car, parked at the entrance."

With a puzzled frown, Olivia followed the agent to the waiting limousine, flying the flag of the vice president on the hood.

After the agent opened the rear passenger door, she peered in to see Daniel Langston in a Tuxedo and winter coat.

"Daniel? What's wrong?"

"Olivia, please come in and shut that door behind you. The snow and wind is getting inside the car."

Olivia stepped in and took the seat opposite. "Daniel, what—?" She paused abruptly, her eyes widening, as the car started moving.

"We're going for a little drive," Daniel Douglas Langston smiled at Olivia.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry, short note… Or I won't post this story! **

**THANK YOU for the lovely commentary about the wedding – part one that is! **

**I thought Part Two needed something scandalous happening, and Sarah Stanner needed to make a bit more than a short appearance! And talking about natural hair - that was inspired by Lupita Nyong'o's Essence 'beauty' speech, and because I always felt that is how Felicia would roll! **

**Let me know what you think… **


	23. Knights Like These

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Where are we going, Daniel?" Olivia folded her arms across her chest.<p>

"Isn't that a shame, I forgot to bring an extra jacket," Daniel Douglas Langston adjusted his coat and smiled at her. "But you won't be needing one, where you're going."

"Where am I going?"

"_We_, Olivia, we are going for a little drive. The destination is for me to know. I don't want to spoil the surprise. Now don't look at me like that, you're quite safe… For now."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's an assurance, Olivia."

"Where's Sally?"

"Sally is in Georgia. She didn't want to be here. The official line is that your wedding offends her moral right-wing dignity. She is upset that Fitz fell in love with a woman who was not his wife, then had the audacity to marry the woman he has publicly called the love of his life. My wife has never understood the depth of such emotion. She has never loved or been loved like that, by a mortal man, which is why she has turned to God. To bless us all."

Olivia glanced away from Daniel's smirk and murmured, "You said that was the official line, what's the unofficial one?"

Daniel Douglas gave her a considering look. "There are a lot of people who don't like to mix their coloureds with their whites."

Olivia narrowed her gaze. "And you have gone out of your way to show yourself as one of these laundry freaks."

Daniel smiled. "Ah, you remember that conversation we had, soon after Fitz threw Sally a lifeline into the White House four years ago. You shouldn't hold that against me; I am a product of my white, privileged upbringing. My family made our money from the sweat of slaves, we still do. Although now I believe the technical term is 'illegals'. But I have nothing against you personally, Olivia. I actually like you."

"Didn't you call me your token black acquaintance?"

"I did and I also said that it's good to have at least one, to name-drop in Washington. It makes me look progressive and liberal."

"I have noticed that you turn up the nasty whenever Sally's around. You're her talking puppet, saying what she can't or won't say in public."

"Now that is why I like you, Olivia. You always see past the bullshit. You see past the act of me being a happily married man, who likes to shoot little wild animals for pleasure, and agrees with my wife's politics."

Olivia unfolded her arms and clasped her hands together. "So why did you kidnap me?"

"I didn't kidnap you. I invited you into the car and you came of your own free will."

"Are we going Number One Observatory Circle?"

"No."

* * *

><p>The reason for his growing uneasiness slowly filtered into Fitz's brain in mid-conversation. He paused, realising he had missed seeing a shadow of bronze and red in the periphery of his vision. Excusing himself from the group around him, he scanned the room, confirming she wasn't there.<p>

Then seeing Cyrus and James on the dance floor, waltzing to a duet of '_When I fall in love'_, sung by Tony Bennet and Norah Jones, accompanied by the Marine Band; Fitz walked up and tapped Cyrus on the shoulder.

"Have you seen Olivia?"

"No," Cyrus said. "Don't tell me you've lost her already?"

James interrupted, "I saw her leave with a man. He looked like a Secret Service Agent."

"What? Where did she go?" Fitz looked around, then catching sight of Tom hovering on the edge of the dance floor, he waved him over.

"Sir?" Tom stopped, gazing from Fitz to Cyrus to James, who'd formed a static group in the middle of the dance floor.

"Where's Olivia?"

"She left with an agent on the Vice President's detail, sir."

"One of Sally's agents? But she isn't even here," Fitz looked around. "Where's Olivia's detail?"

"They're following the Vice President's limousine, sir. Mr Daniel Douglas Langston was the sole occupant in the car. We have reports that the Vice President is still at her ranch in Georgia."

"Georgia?" Cyrus frowned. "But Daniel told me they were both on their way here."

Fitz stared at Tom. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know, sir. I just found out where Ms Pope went, in case you asked."

Fitz gave a wry smile, "Thank you, Tom. Now get the head of security down to my office."

A short while later, the head of security discreetly wiped his glistening forehead and cleared his throat, facing Fitz, who was clearly enraged.

"Why didn't anyone stop her? Or get into the car with her? I told you to increase her protection, dammit! Why would your people let my wife leave like that, when you know the crazies are sending her death threats?!"

"With all due respect, sir, you said we were to watch her at a safe distance, allowing Ms – uh – Mrs – uh, the First Lady to do her job. And Ms Pope, uh, Mrs Grant has assisted the Vice President on – uh- a delicate political matter before. We didn't think to question her actions now. And about the other matter, you gave strict instructions that Ms Pope wasn't to know about the hate mail, so she wouldn't know she has to be extra careful."

Fitz stared at the man, then snapped. "Get me a car."

"That's not advisable. Sir."

"Get me a car!"

* * *

><p>Minutes later, Fitz was on the phone to Sally Langston at her home in Georgia.<p>

"Why the fuck has your husband kidnapped my wife?!" he roared.

"Kidnapped your wife?" Sally's spluttered on the other end. "What are you talking about, Fitzgerald?"

"I am talking about my wife, Olivia Pope, being taken from the White House by your husband, Daniel Douglas Langston! What do you know about that?!"

"I don't know anything about that! Daniel has been acting strange. He insisted, _insisted_, on going to the dinner tonight. By himself. He was adamant and I couldn't stop him. I cannot imagine why he's taken Olivia, or why he has done such a thing! I didn't even realise they were friends. Have you called the police? I would recommend that you do not, let the agency handle this—"

Fitz slammed the phone down on Sally, pressing his fist to his mouth; then turned in relief, at the knock on the door when Tom poked his head in to say, "Sir, the car is ready."

* * *

><p>Olivia narrowed her gaze. "Why are you doing this?"<p>

"I want out. I want to stop living a lie, and for that I need to get out of this damned marriage."

"You want to divorce Sally?"

"No, there will be no divorce. For some women, divorce is a fate worse than death."

"I know," Olivia said wearily. "Mellie felt that way about her marriage to Fitz. She thought being married was the be-all and end-all to her existence; the only thing that made her somebody."

"Sally would hate to hear you compare her to that teeth-grinding airhead, and unlike her, my wife does not need matrimony to sustain her. No, Sally wants to keep me shackled to make her more relatable to voters. She wants people to believe that she understands the women of America because she's married, she's a wife and she's a mother. But I'm done with all that. I want out. And I want a permanent solution."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What are you saying, Daniel. You're not talking about… _killing_… Sally?"

"No! I'm not a murderer, Olivia. Recreational hunting has cured me of blood lust. No, I have something else in mind."

"And you want my help?"

"In actual fact, I think you need my help. I know you and Fitz are planning to leave tonight on Air Force One to spend your honeymoon in Vermont. I know this because Sally needs to know where Fitz is, in case of an emergency, but I'm not the only who knows. Your travel plans have been passed onto to people who don't have your safety in mind."

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Something big, that's for sure. Sally was asked to get out of town, and stay out until she can return to the White House as President in the morning."

* * *

><p>Fitz looked out unseeingly at the passing scenery, his fingers tapping on his knee, his jaw tight.<p>

"She'll be fine, sir. I know Mike – the agent that Ms Pope left with. He's okay," Tom said from the front seat of the Presidential Suburban.

Fitz turned away from the window, with a frown. "_He's_ okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Then before Fitz could get clarification on that comment, Tom added, "We're getting word that the Vice President's car is heading for the Potomac River."

"Speed up!"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>"Someone is trying to kill Fitz?" Olivia gripped her hands together, feeling a cold prickle of alarm feather her spine for the first time that night.<p>

"Don't forget to include yourself in the equation. You need to be careful. You have enemies much closer to home than you think."

"Someone in the administration?"

"You need to widen your perspective. You're not in Kansas any longer, Dorothy. Not everyone around you can be trusted."

"Are you talking about the people I work with at OPA? I don't believe you. I trust them."

"No, I'm not talking about your staff. I'm saying you shouldn't entertain that same level of trust with the people in Fitzgerald Grant's administration. Think of the last man who slept with Melody Grant."

"Hal?"

"Yes, Secret Service Agent Hal Rimbeau. His job was to protect the President. It wasn't to protect you. There are others who may feel the same way, even though you've stepped into Mellie's shoes." Daniel glanced at her. "You walked out of the White House with Mike because he was a Secret Service agent. They inspire an unquestioning trust. That, I believe, is misplaced. You need to ask yourself how many Hals there are in your team."

"But you said people wanted Fitz dead? Are you saying the agents whose job is to protect Fitz are out to kill him?"

"People can be bought, Olivia. Greed is good, remember?"

"Who's behind this?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that Sally has been courting some heavy hitters with deep pockets. These guys are unhappy with the way Fitz has woken up and started being President. They liked him better when you and the dead wife were playing tug-of-war with his dick. Now the man is focused on his job and it's scaring the bejeezus out of the patriarchy."

"But to kill Fitz!" Olivia glanced away, then swung back to face Daniel. "Do they really think Sally will just let them pull her strings?"

"Yes. They don't know my wife, the way you and I do. But even you don't know the half of it. Sally's done things with the limited power and resources she has; things that don't sit well with me. I don't want her to be in a position to legislate misery for others."

"Stop talking in code, what secrets are you hiding?"

"I can't tell you that. Some secrets are better taken to the grave."

"So what am I doing in this car? You could have told Fitz not to fly out to Vermont at the White House? Why bring me here?" Olivia peered out of the window, frowning when she saw a familiar landmark. "Are we heading to the river?"

"The Southwest Waterfront. For a bit of deep sea diving."

* * *

><p>Fitz leaned forward in his seat, "Can this go any faster?"<p>

"No, sir. There are cars in front of us."

"Then use the damned sidewalk!"

The agent driving the vehicle turned to look at Fitz, "You want us to drive on the side-walk. But that's breaking the law, sir. And we'd attract attention."

"I don't care. Just do it!"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>Breaking News…<p>

"…_Dramatic scenes from our nation's capital this evening. The President's SUV is seen here breaking the speed limit, on its way to the SouthWest Waterfront of the Potomac River. We have eyewitness reports that the Presidential vehicle went off-road, driving on the city sidewalks, narrowly avoiding pedestrians. We're not sure if the vehicle has been stolen or if the President is inside but as you can see from our Eye-In-The-Sky camera crew, the DC police are giving chase…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia looked at Daniel Douglas Langston with a calm she did not feel. "You are going to drive us all into the river? That's your solution to getting out of a marriage you don't want. Death by drowning?"<p>

"No, Olivia, there are people who want to kill you, and there are people who will want me dead, eventually. Including my wife. I think it's in our best interest to disappear. I have contacts, here and overseas, who can make that happen."

"No." The word was out before Daniel had finished speaking. "No, I'm not going to disappear. I'm not leaving Fitz. It's our wedding day, for goodness sake!"

"Didn't you hear me, Olivia?! Someone is trying to kill the both of you! I'm trying to save your life!"

"And why would you want to do that, Daniel? Why would you want to help me? We barely know each other. I don't know you well enough to trust you in this situation."

"But you trust Senator Lucas Zeke."

"Zeke… he's behind this?"

Daniel Douglas Langston smiled. "So are you in?"

"No! I'm not leaving Fitz!"

"Olivia Pope, you're a fixer but you need to understand that you can't fix this. It's too big. Bigger than you can imagine. The only we will survive, both of us, is if we get out of this mess; leave the country; get ourselves new identities."

"No. I'm not going to do that. I'm can't do that to Fitz. I won't! It would kill him!"

"So would having you around. He's a target, Olivia and so are you. He was shot once and he survived. Do you want to take a chance on another assassination attempt? And this time it won't be a deranged woman trying to give him a lobotomy. This time, the guys who put out the hit will hire professionals; experienced sharp-shooters who won't miss hitting a fly at ten paces."

Olivia glared at him mutinously, a flicker of doubt sparking in her belly, igniting further when he said,

"If you love Fitz, save his life. Leave him."

* * *

><p>Breaking News…<p>

"… _DC Police at the Southwest Waterfront say a limousine flying the Vice President's flag has driven off the pier into the Potomac River_. _The first vehicle to arrive at the scene, minutes after the accident was the Presidential SUV followed by a second unmarked vehicle... two men are seen here running towards the point the vehicle took a dive...N_ow there are others swarming around. Including the DC Police._ Yes folks, this is live. It's happening in real time. You can see one of the men jump as the other tries to hold him back… The second one jumps.. Both of them... More of them, it's hard to see how many are in the river… Wait? What? The President?! No way! We're getting reports that one of the men in the river is the President of the United States. Yes, we have confirmation. The President has jumped into the icy cold waters of the Potomac River…"_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow, you guys really got onboard the Daniel Douglas cliffhanger! Most number of reviews I've had since the first chapter (after which I went off the rails for about 20 chapters!). **

**Now I know some of you are fond of DD and some of you are fond of Zeke – the bad news is that I'm going to disappoint half of you ;(((**

**And I hate to do that to the half who may already be unhappy after watching the latest episode of Scandal in the US - I've been reading a lot of unhappy reviews along the lines of 'WTF, Shonda!'. And, um, that's a bit like where this story is headed! (The WTF part – not the Shonda part).**

**So sincere apologies to my dear readers who have been through enough shit already, hope you can hang in there for the next chapter, without sending the Huckmonster sans coffee my way!**


	24. Conflicts of Interest

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>As the car accelerated towards the edge of the pier, Olivia heard a bang, followed by the click of the door-lock being released. She quickly made a grab for the door handle as Daniel Douglas made a grab for her.<p>

She kicked at him, trying to get away; managing to throw open the door, just as the car went over.

For a second she was flying, then she hit the water, an instant before the car belly flopped and sank; dragging Olivia in its undertow, down into the dark, freezing water.

Instinctively Olivia held her breath as she spent a moment floating in the darkness, disoriented. Then after the initial shock, her swim habits took over and she used her upper body strength to push against the weight of her dress, restricting the movement of her legs, and headed towards what she hoped was the surface.

Out of nowhere a hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

Startled she gulped a lungful of water, causing her to panic, then hit out blindly as she broke the surface, coughing and spluttering.

"Ma'am, please! I'm trying to get you out!" A hoarse voice shouted, as Olivia continued to hit out.

Olivia stopped fighting long enough to recognise the agent who had walked her out of the White House earlier that night, but with Daniel's words still ringing in her ears, she found sudden strength with a burst of adrenalin and pushed him under, getting the impetus she needed to float out of reach, only to collide with another solid form.

"Olivia!" The desperate cry wrenched out of the man she began hitting, made her still; then burst into tears as her body went slack.

"It's okay, my love. It's okay, I've got you," Fitz gabbled hoarsely, peppering her cold face with kisses as he turned her in his arms, and began dragging her to safety, helped by Tom and several other agents who were in the water with them.

They were hoisted out of the water with Olivia clinging to Fitz and his arms tight around her.

In the chaos that followed, the drenched couple were carried within the huddle of the secret service to a waiting military helicopter where medics were waiting to strip, dry and wrap them in warm blankets before they were given warmed IV fluids and oxygen.

Shivering, her teeth chattering, Olivia stared at Fitz whose gaze was locked on hers. Then a fresh bout of tears blurred her sight and she reached out blindly and grabbed the hand that gripped hers as the helicopter lifted off the ground, with medics and agents on board.

* * *

><p>Breaking News…<p>

"… _A section of the Southwest Waterfront has been cordoned off and traffic is being diverted. We can see more paramedics and disaster recovery crews arriving in the area where the Vice President's car hit the water. We have reports of two survivors, one of them is our First Lady, Olivia Pope, seen here being helped out of the water with President Fitzgerald Grant._

"_We can report that the President and First Lady have been airlifted to hospital on a military helicopter, and initial reports say that they have suffered no serious injuries other than hypothermia. In the meantime, Harbour Police are conducting salvage operations, looking for more survivors. Vice President Sally Langston was not in the car. We have confirmation from the White House, that Mrs Langston is currently flying to DC from her ranch in Georgia…"_

* * *

><p>Shortly after arriving at George Washington University Hospital, Olivia and Fitz were rushed to a private ward where emergency doctors confirmed what the military medics had advised – other than shock and exposure, both the President and the First Lady were fine, in that order.<p>

"But we will need to keep you under observation for 72 hours just to make sure everything stays fine," said the doctor, then turning to Olivia she added, "You are one very lucky First Lady, Mrs Grant. Most people would have suffered spinal injuries or at the very least cardiac arrest on impact with that freezing river."

"Olivia was on the swim team in high school," Fitz murmured from the bed next to hers. "She's an excellent swimmer."

Olivia smiled, her gaze never leaving his. "And I used to go winter swimming with some of my friends. So I guess that helped."

The doctor cleared her throat. "All I can say is that it's a miracle you came out of that with only your party dress destroyed."

"Don't I know it," Olivia said softly, seeing Fitz's jaw clench.

Then they had visitors.

The kids arrived first with Rowan and Felicia. They were subdued as they shuffled into the room, but perked up at the sight of Fitz seated next to Olivia, his saline drip-stand next to hers beside the bed.

It was difficult to say who moved first, Olivia and Fitz trying to get off the bed or the kids who rushed forward but suddenly they were all squished together in a group hug.

"Are you okay?" Jerry mumbled, his face pressed against them.

"We're fine." Fitz said huskily, holding on tight, leaning down to kiss the top of Jerry's curls, then over to kiss Olivia who was blinking back tears.

"Are you coming home?" Karen's voice floated up through the huddle of bodies.

"In a couple of days. They want to make sure we don't have any delayed complications."

"So was Aunt Liv kidnapped?" Peter asked.

Olivia and Fitz exchanged a glance. Then Olivia said in a hoarse voice, "It's complicated."

"The police chief is outside, along with Cyrus and a couple of other people," said Rowan from the background, reminding them all of his presence.

Fitz drew the kids away to sit on his bed, while Olivia approached her father. "Dad."

Her father's stern face softened around the edges, as he reached up to touch her cheek and grip her shoulder before letting his hand fall back slowly to his side. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, "Is this what you signed up for, Olivia?"

Before Olivia could react, Felicia stepped closer. "Rowan, don't start. Not now." Then turning to Olivia, she murmured, "You should rest. It's late and the kids need to be in bed. We'll come back in the morning."

"Can't we stay?" Karen asked, clinging to Fitz like a limpet.

Fitz stroked a hand over her hair. "Teddy needs to see you at breakfast. You need to tell him we're okay, pumpkin."

"Daddy, Teddy is too little to understand what's going on. Besides Marta won't let me see him until he's finished eating his icky fruit poop."

"Come on, Kaz, we should go." Peter tugged her arm. "We can't stay here. There aren't enough beds."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad need to rest," Jerry muttered, then stopped long enough to give them both one last hug.

"Yes, Olivia needs to recover from a wedding, a kidnapping and a near drowning all in one day. Not to mention a honeymoon in hospital. All for the price of being a Grant."

"Dad…" Olivia said in warning, seeing Jerry's stricken face and Karen's lips begin to pucker.

"Nothing happened. We're okay," she assured the kids, leaning over to pull them both into another hug. "And we'll be here in the morning. Waiting impatiently until you come back."

* * *

><p>After their family exited the room, Fitz circled a gentle arm around Olivia's waist, pulling her close against him.<p>

Instantly she turned, tears welling as she pressed her face against his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," she choked, then blurted in a rush, "Daniel said someone's trying to kill you, kill us. He said we shouldn't go to Vermont. That someone had told Sally to stay out of DC, until she could return to the White House as President, this morning!"

Fitz could only stand in silence as the torrent of words hit him like rocks.

"He said we shouldn't trust the Secret Service, and that basically we couldn't trust anybody." Olivia drew back and looked at Fitz. "He said he was working with Zeke to get me to leave you."

Fitz lifted a hand and wiped away her tears with unsteady fingers, querying huskily, "He wanted you to leave me?"

"Yes. He said it was the only way to keep us both safe. The only way we could survive."

Fitz stared at her, continuing to wipe her tears, then he said on a deep, uneven breath. "I'm going to ask Cyrus and the guys to come in here. Will you be okay with that?"

"Yes," she nodded, relieved that Fitz wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

><p>Cyrus came in first, followed by the Counsel to the President, the DC Police chief, and directors of the FBI and Homeland Security.<p>

They paused, seeing Fitz seated on the bed beside Olivia, holding her hand.

"Sir, are you okay?" Cyrus asked formally, but his face was marred by a worried frown. "Liv?"

Fitz gripped Olivia's hand. "We're fine, Cy, but Olivia and I will be under observation for at least another couple of days. How's Tom?"

"Tom's okay. The others are still being checked out. They're still in ICU."

The Police chief rocked on his heels. "We have recovered the body of the agent who was driving the car. It's a homicide, the man was shot in the head."

"I heard a shot, just before we went into the water. There was a shot, then the door lock was released," Olivia recalled, as Fitz stared at her unblinking.

"I see," said the police chief gravely. "We'll have more questions for the agent in the front passenger seat, once the doctors are done with him."

"What about Daniel Langston?" Fitz asked grimly. "Have you found him?"

"We're still searching, but we don't hold much hope of finding him alive."

"Sir," The legal counsel to the President spoke up, "The Cabinet is waiting in the Situation Room, and Vice President Sally Langston is flying back from Georgia tonight. She'll be taking over the reins until you're back in the saddle, uh, until you're discharged, sir. The White House Counsel has prepared the transfer of presidential powers under the 25th Amendment."

Fitz looked at Olivia, giving a wry smirk. "So she gets her wish one way for another."

"For a couple of days," Cyrus assured, while the men beside him glanced at each other, then glanced away.

Fitz glanced at the directors of the FBI and Homeland Security. "I need to have a word in private. And Cy, can you organise to have Tom moved to a private room. I need to speak to him. Oh, and call Zeke at his hotel, I need to see him."

"Now?"

"Now."

* * *

><p>Once the others had left the room, Fitz told the intelligence chiefs in confidence that he needed the bomb squad to check Marine One. "And we need a similar check on our house in Vermont. If you find anything, let me know. This has to be done on a need-to-know basis, and for the moment the less people who know the better."<p>

As the two men left, Cyrus entered with Tom wearing hospital scrubs.

"He insisted on being here," said Cyrus.

"Sir, Mr Beene said you wanted to see me and it's easier for me to get around, than for the guys to make sure you're safe walking around this hospital."

"Cy, can we have a moment?"

Cyrus looked from one to the other, then he muttered, "I'll call Zeke."

After Cyrus left the room, Fitz looked at Tom. "In the car, you said 'Mike's okay'. What's going on? Do you know anything about what happened tonight, why Daniel Langston took Olivia?"

Tom glanced at Olivia. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tom," Then after a pause, she said, "Daniel said there were agents we shouldn't trust."

Tom's gaze flickered towards the door, where the agents on duty could be seen through the glass panel.

That action prompted Fitz to snap, "Tom, answer the question, dammit!"

In a milder tone, Olivia said, "Tom, you are authorised by US Code title 18, section 3056 to protect the President and his immediate family."

"And the Vice President, ma'am."

Fitz frowned. "Are you saying there's a conflict of interest between my safety and that of Sally Langston?"

"No, sir. I'm just pointing out that not every agent on the Secret Service Protective Mission looks after the President," He shifted his gaze from Fitz to Olivia then back again. "And as agents, we take an oath to support and defend the United States Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

"So I'm an enemy now?" Fitz quizzed, with a confused frown.

"Not exactly an enemy, sir, but it looks like you're attacking the Constitution."

"Wait, is this is about the Second Amendment?" Olivia inserted, sitting forward.

"Yes, ma'am. Some of the guys feel the President's push towards gun control is an attack on the fundamental principles of our job. They feel Mrs Langston's goals are more aligned with their ability to faithfully discharge their duties. That's the conflict of interest."

Olivia glanced at Fitz, sliding her arm through his. He stared at her hand, then asked wearily, "You said 'some of us' – do you feel conflicted too?"

"No, sir. And neither does Mike."

"But others feel 'conflicted'?"

"Yes, sir."

"Conflicted enough to want Olivia and me dead?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. But some would take a bullet for you. Others may hesitate."

Fitz looked up at Tom, then sighed, "Thank you, Tom. Please go back to your room and rest."

"Thank you, sir. And sir, I'm glad you and the First Lady are okay."

"Me too."

* * *

><p>"This is my fault. I put you in danger, Livvie," Fitz murmured after Tom had left.<p>

Olivia scooted closer. "You didn't. This isn't your fault. None of it." She placed fierce little kisses along the side of his face, running her fingers through his tangled hair. Then stilled as their lips touched.

For a long moment, neither of them moved then he whispered against her lips, "This iceberg is beginning to look like Antarctica."

She drew back stroking his cheek, then turned as the door opened and a nurse walked in followed by a couple of agents.

"Don't mind me," the nurse smiled. "I'm just here to do check on your vitals - temp, pressure, reflexes. And if we could have the President pop back on his bed for just a few moments until I can see to the First Lady. Then it'll be your turn, sir."

"The President goes first," one of the agents said. "It's protocol."

"Not on my watch he doesn't, and I follow patient protocol at this hospital, not White House protocol." The woman kept her smile intact. "Now if you gentlemen can step back, I can do my job and we can all get out of each other's hair."

The agents didn't budge, until Fitz cleared his throat. Then as they took a step back, the nurse gave them a smile of saccharine sweetness. "Why, thank you. Really appreciate the effort."

* * *

><p>The nurse was just finishing up, when Cyrus walked in to say Olivia's associates had arrived, and were creating a ruckus in the visitor's lounge because the Secret Service wouldn't let them through.<p>

"Shall I call the National Guard to have them evicted? And deported? Oh, and Zeke is here."

Then after the nurse and the agents left the room, Cyrus drew close and muttered, "Is there anyone else you'd like to see? I'm just asking because the nurses are complaining that we're turning this place into Grand Central Terminal, outside visiting hours. And unless you can sign an executive order to get them all fired, I think we all need to call it a night."

* * *

><p>A few minutes later Fitz walked into the private sitting room in his hospital gown, dragging the mobile drip; followed by a handful of agents who positioned themselves by the door and the windows.<p>

Senator Lucas Zeke got to their feet.

"How is she?"

"Safe," Fitz said shortly, looking at the man he'd known for three decades. "How well do you know Daniel Douglas Langston?"

Zeke raised a brow over his good eye. "What? Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just asking a question. How well do you know Daniel Douglas Langston?" Fitz repeated.

"If you're going to use that tone with me, you should read me my rights. Sir."

"Langston mentioned your name to Liv before they hit the water."

"And that's all it took? Some over-privileged redneck makes an accusation and you forget we're friends?"

"What am I to think – I nearly lost my wife tonight."

"And that's your excuse for going all 'Big Gerry' on me? Listen, ace, I'll cut you some slack because you're going through some PTSD-shit, but you need to know that I love Olivia like a sister. Hell, I might even consider going straight for her, and that should tell you where I stand on the issue of her safety."

Fitz sat on the couch, his shoulders slumped. "I'm just… I want to know why the fuck this happened."

Zeke sat down beside him. After a long pause, he said, "I've been investigating Langston."

"What?"

"Langston made a lot of friends in high places when his wife was Governor, including the Federal Prosecutor's Office. I suspected he took the hit out on US Attorney Patrick Dent."

"Fuck you, Zeke! Why didn't you tell me!"

"Listen, asshole, I mean Mr President, Dent's no loss to the human race. And I wasn't going to accuse the second-highest ranked officer in your administration of being connected to the murder of a federal employee. I would have stopped right there but my investigations turned up something else."

"What?"

Zeke glanced at the agents dotting the room.

Picking up his unspoken hint, Fitz raised his voice, "Guys, we need the room."

The agents glanced at each other, then headed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Zeke leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Langston's current lover is in the Secret Service. They've been seeing each other since the guy started working for his wife."

"There have been rumours about the Langston marriage, but no one's been able to prove anything."

"Yeah, that's because Langston's smart – he picks guys who have more to hide than he does. This time he went a step further and picked a man who is sworn to secrecy, and is part of a brotherhood of solidarity – they watch each other's backs, not just yours."

"And you think that's why he tried to kill Olivia? Because he thought he was going to be outed?"

"Hell, I wasn't going to out the guy for being gay. No, he and his lover are running a prostitution ring within the Secret Service."

"Fuck, Zeke, when were you going to tell me all this?"

"After the wedding. I didn't want to ruin your big day." Zeke exchanged a wry glance with Fitz. "So now what?"

* * *

><p>"This is why you should never marry a Republican!" Abby glared at Olivia. "They have no idea how to keep anyone safe!"<p>

"Don't yell at her, she's in hospital!" Quinn glared at Abby.

"Yeah, we need to have this conversation at a more appropriate time, like never," Harrison muttered.

"But Olivia's needs better security. Nobody drove her into the river when I was looking out for her," Huck said grimly.

"And who the fuck is Daniel Langston?" Abby snapped.

"The Vice President's husband. She doesn't listen to anything I tell her." Quinn looked at Olivia and rolled her eyes.

"Why was he trying to kill you, Liv?" Harrison asked.

"Is the wife behind this?" Huck glowered.

Olivia shook her head. "I don't know. All I know is that Daniel Langston wanted me to leave Fitz. He said that was the only way both of us could stay alive."

There was a silence then Abby muttered, "He wanted you to leave the President?"

"On your wedding day?"

"If he wanted you to stay alive, what's with the night-swim? You could have drowned!"

"Or died of hypothermia. Or had a heart attack."

"I don't know. I was blind-sided. I was worried about Fitz."

"Fitz!" Abby spat. "He's the reason you're in hospital!"

"No!" Olivia shouted suddenly. "Don't say that! Don't ever say that! He's beating himself up about this and I don't need you to dump more guilt on him!"

Abby opened her mouth, then after a warning glance from Harrison, she closed it again. "Fine, I won't tell that jackass he sucks at his job protecting you."

They fell silent, then Harrison said slowly, "We need to look into this."

"And you need to come back to OPA," Abby muttered.

"We're better at looking after you," Huck agreed.

"And our clients maybe crazy, but they're not crazy enough to want you dead," Quinn added.

* * *

><p>When Fitz returned to the room, Olivia was alone, sitting up in bed, waiting for him.<p>

"Hi," he said softly, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," she smiled.

He approached the bed, pulling the drip stand with him, and she shifted so he could settle in beside her.

"This is not how I wanted our wedding day to end," he murmured, slipping his arms around her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She snuffled a laugh. "Oh, I don't know. It's kind of nice at the Honeymoon Hospital, we get room service and a sassy nurse for entertainment."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around her. "You feeling okay?"

"Perfectly fine," she smiled against his neck. "How did it go with Zeke?"

"He's not in with Langston."

"So Daniel was doing a head trip on me? That makes sense."

Fitz stroked a hand over her back. "How did it go with your guys?"

"Um, okay. I think they'll be doing some digging around on their own."

"Good, one way or another, I want to know what the hell happened today and why."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, okay I see you want to KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT and enough of this finger-biting, edge of the seat; peeing in pants, 84 years of waiting! Sorry, but you have to know the output speed of this story is limited by my brain power – think slug on hamster wheel (that's my pace at the moment).**

**This chapter sort of is half way to what-the-hell-happened but I didn't want to leave you guys with another cliffhanger – you need a five minute break. Or a three-day one, the way I'm writing these days.**

**So Daniel Douglas has disappeared – hmm…**

**And the Secret Service stuff was inspired by actual reported events – **

**1) Ex-secret service agent Dan Bongino who apparently doesn't agree with President Obama's gun control initiatives. He ran and failed to win a US Congress Senate seat in Maryland in 2013, but apparently he's gaining popularity with pro-gun enthusiasts.**

**2) Around twelve US Secret Service agents were caught up in a scandal involving prostitutes in Colombia in 2012. According to news reports, the incident became public after an agent and prostitute fought over payment, and a full-scale investigation was done into the Secret Service. You can read more about the report findings in **_**Secret Service Report Reveals No Evidence Of Widespread Problems**_** by Alicia A Caldwell, published in Huffington Post on Dec 20, 2013.  
><strong>

**And the cold water immersion stuff was misappropriated from **_**Cold Water Survival**_** from the US Search and Rescue Task Force website and **_**Drowning/Submersion Injury**_** on EMS village DOT com website, written by Kevin High.**

**Also I should say I have no idea who gets called in an emergency - the few job titles listed here, I got from reading about the Assassination of Ronald Reagan on Wikipedia - if you get a chance read it. Seriously, it's hilarious! Keystone cops hilarious! **


	25. Brinkmanship

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm **

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Driving back from the hospital, Harrison said, "Looks our new client is the boss lady, Olivia Pope."<p>

"Olivia Pope Grant." Quinn corrected, "The First Lady."

"Yeah, the First Lady kidnapped and almost drowned by the Second Husband," muttered Huck.

"He's a nutjob!" Abby said.

"He's a nutjob from Georgia," said Harrison.

"Where Olivia attended the gun case, representing the President," said Huck.

"And the US attorney got shot after the verdict. Patrick Dent. This must have something to do with him," Quinn said.

"Must everything be a conspiracy theory with you?" Abby asked impatiently.

"Yes. Life's more interesting that way," Quinn said.

"Look, we need to know if Dent's connected to Langston," said Harrison.

"We need to go to Georgia," said Abby.

"Why can't we just ask Zeke?" said Quinn. "Anyone know where he's staying?"

"I do," said Huck.

* * *

><p>Senator Lucas Zeke arrived at his hotel suite to find Olivia Pope's associates watching the news with Oscar.<p>

"Well, now it's nice you guys came over for a slumber party but I'm going to need my beauty sleep."

"They're here about Dent," said Oscar.

"What about Dent?" Zeke removed his coat and scarf, placing them on the back of a couch.

"That's what we want to know," said Abby.

"Is he connected to Daniel Douglas Langston?" asked Huck.

"Did his death having anything to do with what happened today?" asked Quinn.

"Whoa! Calm down, I'd like twenty questions fired at me after I've had a chance to sit down!" Zeke collapsed onto an easy chair.

Harrison sat forward, glancing at the television footage of the rescue teams still in action on the waterfront. "The agent driving has been found dead, and the other one is under police guard at the hospital. This isn't a bad weather accident."

"Of course, it isn't," said Abby. "Liv wouldn't just take off in the middle of her wedding reception to take a drive down to the waterfront!"

"Without a coat," muttered Quinn.

"Or telling the President where she was going," added Huck.

Zeke glanced at Oscar, then focused on OPA. "Daniel Langston is the founding member of an exclusive boys club down in Georgia. Started his secret society when he was in college and it just got more strategically powerful when his wife became Governor." He paused, "These are gay men so deep in the closet they've seen Pacific Spookfish. They're cover is their love of guns, so they get to hang out on hunting trips."

"But they don't just shoot a few rabbits. Some of these guys are in the business of import/export. They do private sales. They lobby behind the scenes for the NRA," added Oscar.

"Yeah," grimaced Zeke, "in their spare time, they play dress-up in Klansmen gear and hang out with their redneck cousins promoting hate, fear and paranoia. Hate so those fuckers keep buying guns; fear that the Second Amendment is under attack; and paranoia that anyone who advocates gun control is out to get them."

"So why kill Dent?" asked Quinn.

"Guess he stopped being useful," Huck shrugged.

"Dent liked his sex kinky and he was getting careless," Oscar added.

"If that's the connection between Langston and Dent, why did Langston go after Liv?" Harrison quizzed.

"That's the million-dollar question," Zeke muttered.

* * *

><p>Cyrus Beene was waiting on the steps of the White House, with the WH Counsel, the Counsel to the President and US Secretary of State, all wearing their Valentine's Day party gear.<p>

"Madam Vice President," Cyrus said as Sally stepped out of the car.

"Cyrus," Sally glanced at the men, "Are we going to complete the formalities out here? My becoming President?"

"_Acting_ President," Cyrus emphasised, glancing at the Secretary of State, who said,

"With DC Harbour police still searching for you husband, do you really want the added stress of being in charge?"

"There are others who don't have their spouses swimming in the Potomac who might be more suited to taking on the role, while Fitz is in hospital," added Cyrus.

Sally turned her attention from Cyrus to the Secretary of State. "The whole purpose of agreeing that I should take over executive powers the moment the President becomes incapacitated is to avoid a repeat of happened when Fitz was shot. This country was in limbo while he was in a coma."

"The First Lady took front and centre of that entire episode," the White House counsel said diffidently.

"The _former_ First Lady," the counsel to the President clarified.

"Yes, of course," the White House counsel agreed quickly.

Ignoring this exchange, Sally powered on. "We have a country to run, and Fitzgerald Grant needs to be able recuperate without matters of state interfering with his medical treatment. And it is obvious that he is far more concerned with the welfare of his family, particularly that of his wife, the new Mrs Grant."

"Yes, he doesn't have your nerves of steel. Husband missing but it's business as usual," muttered Cyrus.

"I would rather have work as a distraction than sit home, waiting for the phone to ring with inevitable bad news."

* * *

><p>Olivia woke to find Fitz staring at her.<p>

She smiled sleepily, touching his jaw with gentle fingertips. "Why aren't you asleep?"

Fitz tightened his hold around her. "Your father is right, Liv."

She frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Rowan was right when he said you didn't sign up to this. I nearly lost you last night... I don't want you to live like this. I don't want _us_ to live like this."

She sat up. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, you're not quitting, Fitz."

"Livvie, I don't want to take any more chances. Not when it comes to you or the kids. This job isn't worth it. If Sally Langston wants to be President so badly, let her have it. If the American people want to have her as President, let them have her. I just want my family safe. I want _you_ safe, Liv."

"What happens to your family if Sally Langston becomes President? When they start selling guns in supermarkets and banning contraceptives and sex education in school? She'll promote the standard Republican agenda: lower minimum wage, tax breaks for the rich, and legislated intolerance for anyone different—!"

Fitz stopped her with a kiss, gently teasing her lips to pacify her. "We don't have to talk about this now."

She drew back, and settled down on his chest, muttering fiercely, "You're not quitting!"

Fitz rumbled a sigh, quietly stroking her back.

* * *

><p>The FBI director and the Secretary for Homeland Security arrived with the morning nurse. They waited until the usual checks were done and the nurse had left before reporting their findings.<p>

"We didn't find anything on the aircraft, any of the aircraft at Joint Base Andrews, sir."

"And the sniffer dogs and sweeper guys didn't find anything at your home in Vermont either."

Fitz glanced at Olivia, who was gripping his hand. "So that was a lie?"

"We checked the Vice President's, uh acting President's, communications from her office and residence," the FBI director continued. "There was only one call, incoming, the day she left for Georgia. The call was from a cell phone registered to a Cassidy Langston."

"Sally's daughter," Fitz muttered.

"So she did have a family emergency," Olivia frowned.

"We have a recording of that conversation, as part of our routine surveillance," said the Homeland Security chief. "The daughter was rounded up with about twenty other students in a drug and alcohol bust on campus. We've learnt that the Vice President used her contacts to get her daughter released, with all charges dropped."

"So Daniel Douglas Langston was playing mind games with Olivia." Fitz slid his arm around Olivia and brought her close. "Has he been found?"

"No, sir."

"We're checking the shoreline. His body could have washed up anywhere along the river in three states."

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News<strong>

…_The Vice President's husband, believed drowned, has been found alive and in a stable condition this morning. Daniel Douglas Langston was brought ashore on board a fishing boat. The owner said he'd gone out on a private search and rescue mission after hearing about the accident on the news._

"…_I was at the Marina, making sure my boat was secure against the bad weather, when I heard about the accident. I jumped back in my boat and joined the search party because I know these river currents like the back of my hand. Turns out I was right too. I saw this guy floating on the water like a piece of garbage. Yeah, he's lucky I saw him. And even luckier I know a thing or two about cold water immersion injuries. Gave him some of my best moonshine too…"_

* * *

><p>Daniel Douglas Langston lay propped up in bed, at Number One Observatory Circle; with Sally beside him, holding his hand.<p>

"He really should go to a hospital," said the White House doctor, straightening up after listening to Daniel's chest.

"I'm fine," Daniel patted Sally's hand. Then he turned his attention to the Police chief and FBI director waiting in the background. "I understand you have questions for me?"

"I do feel this should wait until the morning, Daniel," Sally gave his hand a tight squeeze. "And with the question of your safety paramount in my mind, I would think you would be more comfortable at the White House medical unit."

"I'd feel safer, in _my_ mind, sleeping in our own bed," He patted the double bed in the guest bedroom. "I'm sure I will be perfectly fine, with all those damned fine-looking nurses, checking up on me all night, and our trusted special agents on guard."

As Sally pursed her lips, the police chief drew up a chair and sat next to the bed. "Can you tell us what happened, Mr Langston. From the moment you left Georgia."

"Actually start from the time you and Mrs Langston left DC," said the FBI director.

Daniel glanced at Sally, then looked at the two men. "Excuse me gentlemen, much as I would like expedite this situation. I feel the need to call my attorney."

"You are not under arrest," said the chief of police.

"I would like to keep it that way."

"Let me make the call," Sally said quickly, getting to her feet and leaving the room. She returned almost an hour later with Daniel's attorney and his team. After a brief consultation with his client, the attorney allowed the questions to resume.

"To repeat the question, what made you leave DC?"

"Sally got a call from our daughter, Cassidy. She's a party girl, but she had a bad run. Got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. She used her one phone call to let us know she was in trouble. Sally was concerned that she'd be kicked out of school, if the press got hold of the story and the news went viral. So we went down to Georgia to speak to a few people and clear up the whole mess. After that, Sally didn't want to return to DC, so I came back alone."

"Why didn't Mrs Langston return to DC with you?"

"Now I don't want to speak out of turn, so I'll let my wife answer that."

"I felt my daughter, Cassie, needed a bit of TLC. I didn't feel it was appropriate to abandon her in her hour of need, so I could attend a party at the White House."

"And what happened after you got to the White House?"

"I needed to speak to Olivia Pope."

"For what purpose, Mr Langston?"

"For the same reason half of the guys on Capitol Hill have seen her. She's a crisis manager. I had a crisis. So I asked one of the agents in the car to get Olivia; I wanted to have a word with her in private."

"What was the crisis?"

"It's confidential."

"This is an official investigation involving the First Lady's safety."

Daniel shifted, looking towards his legal team. "I'd like a word with my attorney."

There was a whispered conference, then the lawyers drew back and the other men resumed their seats as Langston continued, "I had been informed by a reliable source that one of Fitzgerald Grant's political allies was involved in a murder, in my home state of Georgia."

The police chief looked at the FBI director. "Not my jurisdiction."

"What murder?" The FBI director took over the questioning.

"The murder of Patrick Dent. I was sent undercover surveillance footage by an anonymous source. The video shows Dent being forcibly taken from his home by Zeke's men including his partner Oscar and Olivia Pope's associates were in a vehicle across the street. The two female associates later approached Dent's wife, and got her to take the children and clear out of the house. That would explain why Dent was found alone at the time he was murdered. He was the prosecutor in the case involving The Guns for Freedom Alliance and the President Fitzgerald Grant III."

There was a silence, the FBI director said,"That case was found in favour of the President. Why would his allies want the prosecuting attorney dead?"

"Dent threw the case. I saw it, guess the Senator saw it too."

"Why was the tape sent to you?"

"Now how would I know that when I don't know who the darned hell sent it to me."

"Where's the tape?"

"In the safe, in Sally's study."

"Mrs Langston, are you aware of this tape?"

Sally turned her wide-eyed gaze from Daniel to the FBI director. "I can assure you that I most certainly do not. My husband uses that safe more than I do."

"Why didn't you turn the tape over to the authorities?"

Again there was a brief pause and a whispered conference, then Langston resumed speaking, "There were matters of national security involved."

There was a pin-dropping silence, then the FBI director muttered, "What happened in the car?"

"I heard a gunshot."

"You're sure it was a gun shot?"

"Yeah, I hunt. I collect guns. I know the difference between a gunshot and tyre blowout."

"Then what happened?"

"After the gun shot, we took a dive."

"Are you saying the car went off the edge after the gunshot?"

"Yes."

"Did you advise the First Lady that she shouldn't travel to Vermont for the safety of herself and the President?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"Did you tell her that she shouldn't trust the Secret Service?"

Daniel Langston allowed himself a wry smile. "Now why would I make an insane accusation like that?"

"Did you tell here there was a secret organisation that was paying to turn the agents against the President because of his stand on gun control?"

"I have no idea why Mrs Grant is making those accusations against me, unless it's to distract us from what's really going on. I think you folks need to find out if her husband, the President of the United States, sanctioned the murder of a Federal Prosecutor. And if the First Lady, or First Fiancee as she was at the time, helped pass on that informal Executive Order."

* * *

><p>Cyrus Beene ran down the corridors of the hospital and burst into the room, startling the nurse who was checking Olivia's temperature.<p>

"Sir!" The woman glared at him. "Please leave! Visiting hours don't start for another hour."

Ignoring the nurse completely, Cyrus gasped, groaned and abruptly collapsed to the floor.

"Dammit!" The nurse pushed the emergency alert to the nurses' station, then thrust herself between Fitz and Olivia who'd rushed to check on Cyrus.

"Stay back! It looks like this man is having a heart attack…!"

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking Local News…<strong>

"…_Olivia Pope Associates, the crisis management firm, is in crisis itself today when all of its associates were taken into custody by agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in cooperation with DC police. No official statement has been released to the media, but our sources say the arrests are in connection with the kidnapping of murdered US attorney Patrick Dent. Mr Dent was the federal prosecutor in The Guns for Freedom Alliance v Fitzgerald Grant III in the state of Georgia last month…"_

**Breaking National News…**

"…_Senator Lucas Zeke of Georgia is seen here being taken from a DC hotel with his assistant Oscar Zidambe in police custody. Senator Zeke who was tipped to be a strong candidate for a seat in Congress. His assistant has been arrested on charges relating to the kidnapping and murder of US attorney Patrick Dent. Mr Dent was the Federal Prosecutor in the case of The Guns for Freedom Alliance and the President Fitzgerald Grant III. It's believed the arrests were made after Federal investigators received surveillance footage from an unnamed but reportedly reliable source…"_

**Breaking World News…**

"…_It's a bloodless coup that didn't involve the military, in the country that claims to be the world's greatest democracy. Acting President Sally Langston has invoked section 4 of the Twenty Fifth Amendment in the United States Constitution. She has written to the Speaker of the House, claiming support from the majority of the United States Cabinet that the President is mentally unstable and therefore unfit to discharge his duties. She is petitioning to remain Commanding Officer of the United States until elections are held later this year..."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Warning: Please stop reading from here if you don't want to wade through another one of my rants! (A bit late to the party, as I took so long to finish this chapter!)**

**So this note is about the comments I've been leaving on DayDreamLover and BellaDameNoir's stories (which are great: FANTASTIC WRITERS, LOVE THEM!). **

**My comments were about the direction of the actual show and how everyone has been bagging the Olivia character (mainly), and to a lesser extent - Fitz. **

**Olivia and Fitz are **_**written by Scandal Writers**_**, they don't write their own dialogue/actions. For instance some of you hate Felicia and Rowan in this story – blame ME, I write them. Their portrayal is a reflection of my imagination, my writing, my editing, my limitations. They come across as overbearing because I make them overbearing. Real life people can control their personalities (if mentally able), fictional characters cannot (no matter how able!).**

**On the show, Olivia Pope comes across as a secondary, vacillating, bed-hopping hypocrite because **_**she is written**_** that way. What an absolute tragedy that this should happen. And to the actress that plays her. **

**When I think of all Kerry Washington did to get people to watch the show, and what an exemplary ambassador she is – brilliant, charming and kind (especially in her interactions with fans); that this should be her reward is heartbreaking to watch. **

**For those of you who believe this is **_**JUST A SHOW**_** – actually it's not. It's a vehicle of representation for those of us who are under-represented. And leaving aside the moral ambiguities of a true-love affair, we had a heroine worthy of respect with a valid claim to her own dignity (unusual), now she doesn't (not so unusual). **

**And if you don't think representation is important, ask Lupita's whitenicious fan or those who dare to dress up as Angel Coulby's Queen Guinevere on Halloween. **

**I've been reading that ABC did a 'bait-and-switch' on the teen show **_**Twisted**_** - getting people of colour to watch a show, that then focuses to a secondary character's angst – pretty much like switching the focus from Olivia to Mellie on **_**Scandal**_**. Lazy story-telling probably, but why are 2-minute commercials doing better at positive representative than 1-hour shows? **

**Olivia Pope was a 'badass' **_**WOMAN**_** of colour, someone who wore a business suit, instead of a cape (and didn't spin webs or jump tall buildings) – much more achievable. A **_**WOMAN**_** who was **_**LOVED**_**, not simply desired for sexual gratification. Can **_**we**_** as an audience afford to see all that destroyed? **

**Note: the bait and switch is to women that we're supposed to admire out of pity; female characters who are essentially strident mean-girls or snivelling twits. They are not women who are intelligent, strong or loved in their own right. (Anyone care for another serving of patriarchal misogyny between commercials?)**

**All I have to say about that is – ugh! **


	26. Taking Liberties

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

**World News Update**

* * *

><p>"…<em>United States President Fitzgerald Grant III was removed from the highest office in the land by his deputy Vice President, Sally Langston last night. And we have a panel of experts to discuss this extraordinary situation. I mean extraordinary is an understatement. What exactly does this mean for the world?"<em>

"_We don't know what it means yet, but it's serious. That's why you've got representatives from foreign governments and major world organisations flying to Washington DC today. I understand the leaders of the IMF, World Bank, United Nations and member states in the NATO Alliance, EU and G20 have contacted the new Langston Administration, specifically to ask about the welfare of President Grant, or rather ex-President Grant and his family."_

"_But is this such a cause for concern? Australia gets rid of its democratically elected Prime Ministers with surprising regularity – and the country simply carries on. Surely it's not outside the realm of reality that it would be same for the United States?"_

"_Yes, it's true that Australia has 'sacked' for want of a better word, several sitting Prime Ministers without the benefit of a vote. The Governor General sacked the Whitlam government in 1975 creating a constitutional crisis. But there was less of a furore when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's job was taken by his deputy Julia Gillard in 2010."_

"_But she herself was replaced."_

"_Yes, Prime Gillard's tenure as Australia's first female prime minister was short-lived when her nemesis Kevin Rudd took back his job in 2013. So it will be interesting to see if America's first female President shares the same fate as Ms Gillard."_

"_The other thing to keep in mind is that the United States has a much, much greater impact on the world than Australia. The United States is effectively the only remaining superpower. It has the largest single economy, and it has the largest and most influential financial market – 132 of the world's corporate giants call America home. "_

"_Not to mention, America also has the most number of active nuclear warheads…"_

"_So what I'm hearing is that the world can't afford to have the US play Pass-the-Parcel with its Presidents?"_

"_Essentially."  
><em>

* * *

><p>Cyrus swatted the nurse away as she tried to take his pressure. "Go away!"<p>

"Cy, just let her do her job," said James, who was rocking Ella back and forth in her pram.

"I am fine! I keep telling everyone I am fine! I had a panic attack. But if people keep fussing around me I just might have that heart attack that you want to prevent!"

He glared at the nurse. She looked at him with stoic impassivity.

"Mr Beene, I need to check your blood pressure, and I will check your blood pressure. Now give me your arm. I haven't got all day."

After a moment, Cyrus held out his arm with bad grace, and the nurse completed her work without comment.

After the nurse had departed, Cyrus turned his glare from the closing door back to James. "Get me a wheelchair, I need to see Fitz."

"You can't see Fitz. I tried. The Secret Service Agents won't let me through. They're taking they're orders from Sally Langston."

"That damned woman!" Cyrus gritted his teeth, "I cannot believe she has him effectively under house arrest in a _hospital_!

"One of the agents did mutter that he was being moved to a secure facility, location classified."

"Why isn't the Attorney General taking action on this?! I need you to contact people – constitutional lawyers, the ACLU – gah!"

"Breathe," James soothed as Cyrus exploded with rage. "No seriously, breathe. I don't want to be a single dad."

* * *

><p>Felicia faced the chief usher and said firmly, "I will not let the children be moved to Blair House."<p>

"Ma'am, I'm only following orders from the Vice President, the uh acting President. She believes it would be best for all concerned, as in it would be safer, if they moved."

"They will be safe here. I will make sure of it," Felicia said. "A move now would just add to the anxiety they feel at being separated from their parents. I'm happy to make explain this in great detail to Mrs Langston."

The usher gave her a small smile. "That will not be necessary, ma'am. I will pass on your message."

Half an hour later, Felicia found herself facing Sally Langston in the Oval Office.

"Ms Adams," Sally said remaining seated in her chair as Felicia remained standing. "The reason I asked the children to be moved to Blair House is because my husband is recuperating. It would be less stressful for him and more convenient for me if he were at the White House, then I can keep a close watch on his wellbeing."

Felicia gave Sally a serene smile. "This is the White House, there are 25 bedrooms. There's plenty of room for your husband as well as the children, Mrs Langston. So I see no need to have the children moved. It is unnecessary to disrupt their routines for a few days while this matter is resolved."

"Ms Adams, I can assure you this will take more than a few days and even then the resolution may prove that a move is inevitable!" Sally snapped.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Sally took a deep breath, and affected an icy smile. "Ms Adams, I feel it would be in the best interest of all concerned, if the children are moved to a secure establishment – which is not far from the White House – while their father remains in hospital."

"How long do you intend for their father to remain in hospital?"

"I assure you that has nothing to do with me. The doctors will need to test Fitzgerald Grant's mental fitness."

"I see. In that case, it is vital for the children to remain where they feel safe and nurtured. You may be acting President, but with an election looming I don't think even you can afford the sight of screaming, crying children being forcibly moved to Blair House."

Sally looked at Felicia, then said abruptly, "Thank you, Ms Adams. I will consider your request."

* * *

><p><strong>National News Update (panel of experts)<strong>

"…_Isn't section 4 of the 25__th__ Amendment usually invoked when the President of the United States is under sedation?"_

"_Yes, President George Bush invoked it when he had a colonoscopy. He transferred Presidential powers to Vice President Dick Chaney for about an hour, while he was under sedation."_

"_From what I understand President Fitzgerald Grant is only under observation at George Washington university Hospital. He was never under sedation."_

"_Yes, but remember the time he was shot and in a coma. The current changes were made to avoid a repeat of having the Commander-in-chief's office in limbo for any length of time."_

"_That's right, after there were doubts as to when the President actually regained consciousness."_

"_Doubts, what doubts? Do you mean those rumours on Capitol Hill?"_

"_The point is that the disability clause is now invoked whenever the President is admitted to hospital."_

"_Under this Constitutional amendment, the President can invoke the clause if he does not feel able to do the job."_

"_Or the Vice President can do the same, with the majority - in this case- of the United States Cabinet, if the President is unfit to carry to his duties."_

"_President Grant is due to be released from hospital tomorrow. All he has to do is write to the Speaker of the House that he's fit to resume his duties, right?"_

"_Actually no, the acting President then has four days to repeat the initial process of writing another letter, with the majority of Cabinet, saying essentially they don't believe President Grant is fit to govern."_

"_And Congress has 21 days to decide on who should be President, one way or another._

"_Actually there needs to be two thirds of the vote in both houses agreeing that President Grant is not fit to resume his duties."_

"_And if Congress doesn't decide in 21 days?"_

"_President Grants gets his job back."_

* * *

><p>Senate Majority Leader Edison Davis stared at the Senate Minority Leader in disbelief. "So wait, let me get this straight, we're being asked to support this action to have the President of the United States declared mentally unfit due to post-traumatic stress disorder?"<p>

"Just consider the facts, Ed. That's what I did – the guy's been through hell and back in the last few months. He was shot, he ended up in a coma, then he upped and divorced his wife. Yeah, that still blows my mind, a sitting president getting a divorce right before an election year. The first ever Presidential divorce in our nation's history! Hell, I reckon that bullet that went through his brain did far more damage that we all realised."

"In your expert opinion?" Edison said dryly.

"I don't need to be an expert to know something's wrong with the guy. He divorces his wife, then she gets murdered. Then he gets married a couple of months later, and the new wife almost drowns on their wedding day. That's enough to drive any sane man crazy." The Minority Leader glanced at Edison. "You know her, right? The new Mrs Grant? You two were a thing?"

"Yes, Olivia and I go way back. We're friends."

"Still friends, even after she threw you over for the President?"

"We're friends," Edison repeated firmly.

"Does that mean you're going to fight us on getting this through the Senate?"

"Us? He's your President, man."

"The way he's been acting lately, we've been thinking the real President Grant's been kidnapped by a Democratic stand-in. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" The man guwaffed.

"A man is about to lose his career. It's not funny."

"I sure as heck agree. I stopped laughing the minute the man attacked the Second Amendment, then went after the guys who butter my bread. Yeah, the guy's turning into a Socialist and if declaring him crazy is the only way to get him locked up, I'm all for it."

"I get it now."

"So you in?"

"I'll wait for the medical report."

* * *

><p>Olivia paced her room, glaring at the FBI director. "Where have they taken Fitz?"<p>

"I can't tell you, ma'am. I can assure you that he'll be safe. We moved him because Hospital Administration asked us to do that. They didn't feel the hospital would be the most secure facility to house the President while he was getting his psyche evaluation."

"Who is doing the assessment?"

"A qualified clinical psychologist from the White House Office of Science and Technology, that's at the request of acting President Sally Langston. The Secretary of State has requested a second opinion from a military psychologist recommended by the President of the Society for Military Psychology, someone who treats military personnel coming off active duty; and the US Attorney General has requested a third opinion from a therapist referred by the American Psychological Association board directors."

"I want their names."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a pause at a knock on the door, followed by the entry of Rowan Pope, accompanied by the President's counsel, the senior partner in Fitz's personal legal team, and Sameera Hussein.

Rowan's gaze quickly darted to Olivia. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Olivia managed a brief smile, then turned her attention to Sameera. "Thank you for being here at such short notice. I'm sorry, your DC holiday was interrupted for this."

Sameera reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm just here to take notes, the others will be doing the 'heavy lifting'."

"Has my daughter been advised of her rights?" Rowan asked.

"Yes, sir," said the FBI director, glancing at his colleagues who'd been silent throughout the conversations in the room, and on receiving a nod, he directed his attention back to Olivia and the new arrivals.

"Ready to begin?"

* * *

><p><strong>Local News Update<strong>

"…_First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant was released from hospital early this morning with a clean bill of health. Sources say she left the hospital in the care of her father and a family friend. Sources say Mrs Pope-Grant assisted the FBI yesterday, with their investigation into the kidnapping and murder of US attorney Patrick Dent. But neither the FBI nor the White House has released an official statement. Mrs Pope-Grant was still under medical observation at the time._

"_In related news, Federal Judge Claudette Liston from the State of Georgia has made an official statement to the FBI regarding the kidnapping of her grand-daughter. The incident took place during the hearing for a preliminary injunction against President Grant's Executive Order on Gun Safety. At the time, news network XYZ in Georgia reported that Mr Dent's body was found, after Atlanta Police arrived at his house to arrest him on charges of kidnapping and obstruction of justice._

"_Now Atlanta authorities say they have no record of those charges. We've been told by XYZ that the archived footage of the news report has gone missing, and the four men who were reportedly helping authorities with the Liston kidnapping, were found dead in their cells this morning, apparent victims of a brawl that has the prison in lockdown._

"_But we have evidence to support Judge Liston's claims. This morning we received an email with a video link to recordings made of Dent's conversations at the time of the kidnapping. The footage also show him threatening physical harm to male sexual partner. A copy of the video had been presented as evidence for Dent's arrest, but authorities claim this evidence has been lost. The link has now been posted on our Facebook page…_

"_**Breaking news…**_

"… _This just in, Acting President Sally Langston has declared martial law. That's right martial law on the democratic nation of the United States. She has suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus. The writ allows people who are unlawfully imprisoned to be freed through a court proceeding. Suspending the writ effectively means this civil liberty has been suspended, along with civil liberties relating to the freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures, freedom of association and freedom of movement…"_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I have had a lot of fun the last couple of days – I have entered the world of Tumblr – YAASSSS! I will now officially log out of real life because I am living in Tumblrland (hmm, maybe I need to reduce my Internet plan – what? No!)**

**BTW, this came about because I had rant part 2 for two of my reviewers, and I figured rather than making an ongoing saga about it, I'll just open a blog and direct traffic there… **

**So check it out .com – yes, I'm a maniac because there was ScandalMania already – a Japanese teen band (wonder if they watch Scandal?). I could have gone with Tumblr suggestion I-scandalmania (but that sounded a bit imperious, or a bit I-robot)**

**Anyway, Janet – you are 'Reader' on that blog. And Lovescandal1, you are 'Reader #2'. I wasn't sure how you would feel about seeing your names on Tumblr, but THANK YOU for your comments (you have given me A NEW HOBBY!)**

**And this is what I didn't write on there in detail: The other thing is Lovescandal1 , DON'T ABANDON your stories –I've been reading **_**Discovering Me**_** and I sincerely hope you continue to write that story! Good stuff! ;))))**

**And to all my other reviewers – THANK YOUUUUUUU! Glad you liked the plot twists ;))) – and thank you for encouraging us FF writers to write for the show but I have to say I like autonomy. I'm not sure Scandal Writers have that; last minute editing that puts a different slant to what I intended would drive me NUTS! Again thank you so much for reading ;)))**

**I will post more responses to comments on the blog, after I finish a couple of assignments for uni!**


	27. 21 Days of Sally Langston

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Day One <strong>

**Commander-in-Chief means business. President Sally Langston declares Martial Law, suspends Habeas Corpus, claims it is to protect the American public from her predecessor; declares he is 'unstable' and has used 'criminal connections' to commit the murder of a Federal employee. **

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant removes family from White House; leaves for Vermont. Unnamed sources say she didn't want to share the Executive Residence with the man who tried to 'drown' her. Daniel Douglas-Langston, now First Husband, is due to move in tomorrow. White House chief usher, butler quit. Household staff walk out, flies with First Lady to Vermont. Cook, butler, maids, gardeners are brought in from Number One Observatory Circle.

* * *

><p><strong>Day two<strong>

**Residents protest in Washington DC; police chief refuses to make arrests. Pentagon chief tells President it is an act of treason to set military on American citizens on American soil. Suggests work-around by getting Canada or Mexico to annexe the United States.**

First Lady Olivia Pope sues President Langston over the 'rendition' of her husband; the slander and defamation of the Grant name; and the unjust incarceration of her associates and President Grant's friends. She claims Mrs Langston is furthering her own political agenda by maligning her husband. She is being assisted by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). As a preliminary measure, the FBI is forced to set up a live video link twice a day allowing President Grant, still at an unspecified location, to speak to Mrs Grant and their children.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

**President Langston declares all protestors 'enemies of the state'. Pentagon chief resigns. Deputy gets promoted. New Pentagon chief says government has the right to kill an American citizen on American soil with the use of drones under the National Defense Authorization Act. The Act also provides for a US citizen to be detained on US soil under the legal framework of 'armed conflict', instead of a criminal justice system. Federal and state law courts inundated with law suits against President Langston.**

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant speaks to the gathered protestors, urges them to remain calm with DC police chief at her side. The chief said he called Mrs Grant following her 'invaluable assistance' last year, in preventing a riot when the Klu Klux Klan came to town. The DC Mayor later met with Mrs Grant to thank her for getting the crowd to take their protest off the streets of DC and into the 'e-mailboxes' of elected officials in Congress, State and local governments, as well as filing citizen suits in Federal Court.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Four<strong>

**Congress divided on President Langston's actions; brawl breaks out on floor of both houses. Video of the punch-up goes viral in Taiwan, Ukraine, India, Bolivia and Somalia. **

The First Lady arrives on Capitol Hill; enters House of Representative chamber after scuffle between pro-Langston Republicans and everyone else. Takes the stand at Speaker's Rostrum, where her husband gave his SOTU speech a couple of months ago, to address both houses of Congress. Advocates against sanctioning President Langston's arbitrary move on Martial Law; and having her husband, President Grant, declared unfit. Speaks amidst boos and shouts to 'get her out' as well as cheers and applause from the galleries. More scuffles breakout. Meanwhile White House chief of staff Cyrus Beene is released from hospital, announces he is taking an indefinite leave of absence.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Five<strong>

**Pro-gun policies by President paves the way for guns in church, schools. President Sally Langston reverses Executive Order on Gun Safety. Georgia passes gun laws allowing state residents to carry concealed weapons in bars, churches, government offices and schools. Anti and pro-gun advocates cause Social Media meltdown with increase web traffic to protest legislative changes, as they don't feel safe taking their protests to the street. **

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant does the talk-show circuit, reminds pro-gun advocates that her husband was not about taking away their right to own guns; he was ensuring their right to own guns safely and to protect their children from being shot dead by the improper storage and sale of firearms. Mrs Grant asks 'if you had suffered the trauma of getting shot, isn't it reasonable to do everything in your power to protect your children?' Most audiences agree they would.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Six<strong>

**Proving that she is BFF with Big Business, President Langston says she intends to reduce 'tax burden' on wealth-generators for the nation; lower labour costs by reducing minimum wage to make America more competitive; and increases subsidies for oil and gas. Occupy Wall Street movement gets second wind, protestors block traffic in Manhattan's financial district. **

First Lady Olivia Pope and White House chief of staff, Cyrus Beene speak to Occupy Wall Street protestors about President Fitzgerald Grant's initiatives to tackle child poverty among working families. Mrs Grant-Pope and Mr Beene were joined by a group of White House interns, led by TJ Broadhurst (son of financier Samuel Broadhurst) who spoke of President Grant's barely-publicised action in putting all White House interns on payroll, through a corporate-sponsored funding scheme that wouldn't burden tax-payers. TJ says President took immediate action after indigent interns complained about the difficulties of their unpaid work experience.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seven<strong>

**President Langston orders protestors out of Manhattan CBD. New York Governor refuses to evict protestors, police side with Governor until Big Business steps and 'donates' $300,000 via the Department of Homeland Security for an armoured vehicle. Retired marine chief raises concerns about police being turned into a 'domestic army' to control citizens. **

Policeman fires into the crowd, live ammunition not rubber bullets. First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant, bringing refreshments from local slow-food vendors, was unhurt. The First Lady's bodyguards, believed to be ex-Secret Service agents, were on hand to offer First Aid to five critically injured protestors. The police officer who sparked the incident later claims he felt threatened by a protestor making faces at him. Protest organisers accuse Homeland Security of murder. Families of the injured protestors file class action injury suit against Manhattan Police Department.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Eight<strong>

**The TMG Party start rallies around the country in support of President Langston. The supporters are immediately arrested by police under the President's emergency laws preventing the freedom of movement, assembly and association. President Langston authorises their release, faces another public backlash and fresh spate of discrimination lawsuits. **

First Lady Olivia Pope makes public statement, calling for the release of her husband. To date, no results of his psyche evaluation have been released. She says the enforced separation from family and friends, as well as his incarceration in an unknown location, constitutes cruel and unusual punishment for crimes he did not commit. She adds that President Grant shows signs of anxiety and depression, and a steady decline in his physical health in their daily discussions. She reiterates that this is heartbreaking for the kids. Parent groups across the country rally behind the First Lady.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Nine<strong>

**President Langston assures key allies around the world that she is handling a delicate domestic situation within the guidelines of the US Constitution.**

The United Nations General Assembly calls an emergency special session today, after the 15 member states of the UN Security Council fail to reach agreement on action to be taken against its current chair, the United States. A surprise speaker at today's meeting was First Lady, Olivia Pope-Grant. Mrs Pope-Grant addresses the assembly on the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which the United States has ratified in such a way as to have no real impact to its domestic policies and legislation. She warns of an impending global crisis when the 'world's policeman' or 'police woman' has run amok within national boundaries - 'We have laws to protect our citizenry from Presidential power rampages, but right now those laws are being ignored. The US does _not_ have laws to protect the world's citizenry from a US President; the only moderating influence is Congress and if President Langston isn't listening to Congress, then you have reason to worry'. After speech, the member states in Africa and South America join Russia and China's censure of the US for civil and political violations. The EU nations, including the United Kingdom, Australia and Canada abstain.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Ten<strong>

**President Langston places First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant under house arrest. **

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant speaks to the world's media and the public via live video feeds from her home in Vermont; accuses the acting president of impeding her right to free speech – which is a violation of the First Amendment to the Constitution. Lodges citizen suit to have writ of Habeas Corpus reinstated.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Eleven<strong>

**President Langston seeks injunction to shut down Skype, Twitter, Facebook. Social media bosses file counter suit against President Langston for tortious interference, aka intentional interference with contractual relations.**

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant unifies a global audience via social media to her cause. Protestors gather outside US embassies and consulates worldwide.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twelve<strong>

**President Sally Langston tries to get the Department of Homeland Security and NSA to shut down Fitzgerald 'Jerry' Grant IV twitter account, after the North Korean Leader invites Michael Jordan and Jerry to 'escape to safety' in Pyongyang on his private jet. **

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant and her stepson, Jerry Grant, have a live conference call with North Korean Leader and Michael Jordan. Television networks complain of a sharp drop in audience numbers due the unfolding real-life drama which is currently taking place on Social Media platforms. Social Media stock prices go through the roof.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirteen<strong>

**President Langston declares First Lady is a 'terrorist' for conspiring with a known dictator in the Axis of Evil. Sends in army to have Mrs Pope Grant arrested under the National Defense Authorisation Act. Army, police unable to get through as thousands of people gather on Vermont estate. Media reports that public carrying more weaponry than security personnel, military-grade weapons can now be legally bought online under President Langston's ongoing de-regulation of gun safety laws.**

First Lady Olivia Pope Grant mingles in the crowd to thank her supporters, while gently advising that guns make her children nervous. She recommends non-violent resistance. Crowd hands over weapons to Mrs Pope-Grant's security detail, headed by Tom Larsen. Mr Larsen assures that guns will be returned to owners when they leave the estate. Local businesses donate food, including jam, tents, blankets and port-a-loos as protestors plan to stay put until President Grant is returned to office.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fourteen<strong>

**President Langston accuses First Lady of inciting civil disturbance when minimum wage workers across the country stage walk-outs, to take part in a Billion Worker road trip to join Occupy Wall Street protest. Employers threaten sackings. Immediately face product boycotts from consumer groups across the world. Social Media donations page for America's beleaguered workers attract millions of dollars in minutes.**

Chief of staff Cyrus Beene speaks to the gathered protestors in Manhattan, with his husband James Novak and daughter Ella, by his side. Mr Beene tells those gathered that he believes in the great American dream of power, prosperity and a good work ethic. James Novak takes over the microphone and speaks about social justice and ethical prosperity. He highlights the strides made by President Fitzgerald Grant in bridging the gap of inequity. Discussion boards erupt with observations on the lack of diversity in the Republican Party vs the abundance of inclusivity in President Grant's personal life and his inner Cabinet.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifteen<strong>

**President Langston meets with Big Business to hear complaints about stalled factory production lines, scarce tourism, export boycotts and import blockades which are causing profits to haemorrhage. She assures them she is doing everything in her power to sort these issues. **

First Lady reminds American people that 1% of the country may hold the majority of the nation's wealth, but the remaining 99% have its heart, its strength and its dreams, and to persist in their aims to have ALL Constitutional freedoms restored, not just the ones convenient for Big Business

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixteen<strong>

**President Langston is unavailable for comment as Federal Court declares Martial Law unconstitutional. US Attorney General refuses to appeal. Writs of Habeas Corpus brought before the courts are upheld. President Langston faces avalanche of compensation claims. Treasury says budget estimates didn't estimate this fiasco for current fiscal year. Senate Majority Leader Edison Davis says President Langston needs to stand down**

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant briefly celebrates her 'release' at the 'Festival of Freedom' with the thousands of uninvited guests in her backyard. She then leaves for Washington DC to lobby the government for the release of President Grant; organises press conference at Olivia Pope and Associates, for her associates, Senator Zeke and his partner to speak to the press about the ordeal of being denied 'due process of the law'.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seventeen<strong>

**President Langston denies links to US attorney Patrick Dent as more evidence surfaces of his involvement in the kidnapping and attempted murder of Judge Claudia Liston's grand-daughter during the injunction hearing for the Gun Safety Executive Order. It has also been revealed the Gun Alliance receives funding from several influential private citizens, including Mr Daniel-Douglas Langston, the President's husband. Sources reveal that Mr Langston is the founder of a gun club to which Mr Dent belonged.**

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant arrives at the White House; greets waiting protestors who cheer her arrival; meets with President Langston; tells waiting media that the whereabouts of her husband are still unknown; arrives at Congress, speaks to key dissenters of President Langston's current policies, including Senate Majority Leader, Senator Edison Davis.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Eighteen<strong>

**President Langston meets behind closed doors with White House legal counsel, tries to contact key allies in the Republican Party, after evidence surfaces of Patrick Dent's pattern of violence against male lovers. Abused victims speak out. Victims say gun club a cover up for 'hook-ups' between members and their 'honorary guests'. President Langston says it's 'blasphemous' to imply that her husband is an 'abomination to the natural order of life' i.e. 'gay' **

First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant flies to Roswell, New Mexico; believes President Grant is being held at a classified FBI location that has been traced via the daily phone conversations the President has with his family.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Nineteen<strong>

**Presidential candidate, Governor Samuel Reston of Maryland speaks on the steps of Congress, adds his voice to the chorus of well-known politicians who are calling for President Langston to step down. Meanwhile, President Langston denies close ties to anti-gay lobby group Global Unity for Families. Claims evidence of generous donations, to the organisation's research and development projects, are 'fake'.**

Protestors gather to keep vigil alongside First Lady Olivia Pope Grant, outside the 'secret' FBI interrogation centre in Roswell, demanding the release of President Fitzgerald Grant.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty<strong>

**Evidence released to the media that Acting President Sally Langston's funding has gone towards one specific Global Unity R&D project, developing a drug to control same-sex attraction. Global Unity believes homosexuality is an 'illness' that requires ongoing treatment. Product XY is currently being evaluated for sale, by the Centre for Drug Evaluation and Research (CDER), but research-evidence reports supplied by the drug company to CDER omit one crucial aspect revealed by the tests. One of the side-effects evidenced in test subjects is a tendency towards psychopathic behaviour. **

More protestors join First Lady Olivia Pope Grant in her vigil, waiting for her husband President Fitzgerald Grant to be released; Mrs Grant is gets mail from the White House, contents examined by her protective agent Tom Larsen reveal letter and a couple of USB sticks.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-One<strong>

**President Langston steps down her 'acting' duties at the White House**

President Fitzgerald Grant III is released from FBI custody

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Apologies (#9726345954976) to all the constitutional, legal, business, law enforcement, intelligence (even basic intelligence, not just super spy, secret service) experts, who KNOW that this chapter could NEVER have happened the way it did. I'm happy to be corrected on how this should have happened!**

**My point in writing the way I did was: **

**1) To mix my usual over-the-top BS hypotheticals with real events that have occurred around the world and in the US (yes, Georgia did pass a law to allow concealed weapons into Church and schools; and yes, there really is a National Defense Authorisation Act which apparently says it's legal for the government to kill an American citizen on American soil with a drone).**

**2) Next reason: To imagine scenarios when people in power actually felt the (non-electoral) power of the people in the most powerful/influential country on earth**

**3) To subject the dominant group (note: dominant, not prolific, not majority) in a very simplistic fashion (!) to the effect of their own rules. Why? One of the courses I'm doing right now is called employment relations (it's about human resource and management strategies in the workplace). For one of my recent assignments, I read that employers are micro-chipping ordinary workers to keep track of their whereabouts (OMG! WTFFFFF?! Even dogs only get traced when they are lost and found. But workers – 24/7!) and I wondered how management would feel about being subjected to these same invasions of privacy/dignity. I have read a whole bunch of other stuff that has made me open up a second blog to eventually share with people. (At the moment, I'm just re-blogging stuff I can reference for assignments!). **

**For those of you who have asked about my Scandal Tumblr – it's SCANDAL-MANIAC (with a 'c' on the end). I had a bit too much fun with 'Paint' the first couple of days (Paint? As in PNG file, not even JPEG or GIF?) but I've curbed those kindergarten tendencies now. **

**You'll find this note on the blog with my reference links ;))))**

**BTW, there used to be a short-lived TV show called _Roswell…_where apparently aliens were kept in secret!  
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	28. Spring Clean

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"…<em>Emotional scenes in Roswell, New Mexico this morning as President Grant walks into the arms of his tearful wife, Olivia Pope-Grant. The First Lady has been lobbying for the President's release since he was detained by the Federal Bureau of Investigations. The FBI took him into 'safe-keeping' they say, for a series of psychological evaluations ordered by Vice President Sally Langston…"<em>

"…_That's what 21 days in FBI lock-up looks like, folks, you go from being a candidate for GQ Man of the Year to Tom Hanks in 'Castaway'. All that's missing is the tan and loin cloth, but the beard and extreme diet are spot on. And they say this guy is crazy. Guess we need re-write the rules on that one, because in the last 21 days we sure saw crazy and it wasn't from the President being detained in Roswell, New Mexico…"_

"…_Well, we all saw what 21 days with a 'sane' Republican President can do to this country. Guess the Grant honeymoon hiatus will continue until the mess that's been made of our democracy gets a big clean-up. I'd personally like to send my thanks to our viewers in in the Middle East, South America and Eastern Europe, they have felt our pain and in the last 21 days we sure as heck know what theirs feels like…"_

Cyrus switched off the television in the antechamber to the Oval Office, as he went around doing the 'Big Sally Spring-clean'. The thought widened his smile and put extra pep into his jaunty walk. He even exchanged greetings with the household staff returning from Vermont.

Yes, today was a good day. Sally Langston was out, and Fitzgerald Grant was coming home.

* * *

><p>Olivia and Fitz hadn't spoken much after she'd burst into tears at the sight of him, and he'd walked into her open arms to hold her as if he would never let go.<p>

Her tears had soaked the front of his shirt, and he'd breathed in the scent of her hair, fighting back his own tears, as people pushed into them, demanding comments from details of his ordeal to whether he would put Sally Langston on Death Row.

Fortunately, Tom, the other agents and Olivia's associates had been on hand to push the crowd back, allowing them to make it into the relative privacy of the waiting car, where Fitz had immediately called their children, with Olivia plastered to his side.

Now they were flying across the country in Air Force One; while the Associates flew back in the private jet that had been at Olivia's disposal, provided by one of her many clients, during the past 21 days.

Olivia stroked his beard with hands that hadn't stopped touching him.

"What do you think?" Fitz asked huskily, his gaze soft and never leaving her. "Do you think I should keep it?"

She smiled, sliding her arms around him, snuggling close. "I like it but I miss your face."

He chuckled, his breath feathering wisps of her hair. "That's a very diplomatic answer."

She smiled against his throat. "That's because I've been speaking diplomat ever since—!" Her voice broke and she burrowed into him, clutching him tightly.

He took a deep shuddering breath, crooning softly. "We're okay, Livvie. We're okay." He stroked her back. "I've been reading about you in the papers. Those newspapers you insisted I hold up to my face, to verify I was still alive like they do in hostage situations. What you did… everything you did… You were amazing, you are—"

She stopped his words with a fierce kiss. Then broke off, holding his lips at bay with her fingertips when he surged back for more.

"Why'd you stop?" he mumbled.

She looked at him sadly. "I can't jump your bones when you look like you've been on a hunger strike."

He kissed her fingertips. "I lost my appetite, missing you and the kids. Then again, I wasn't sure if they were drugging me through my food. It's easy to get paranoid in a situation like that."

She stroked his cheek. "Carlita gave me a few names. If you want to talk about what happened."

"Maybe. Yeah. Let me think about it. I'm sick of professional shrinks right now." When she tried to leave his lap, he held on tight, "Where are you going?"

"To find you something to eat."

"Don't move. I'm fine."

"Want to make a fuel stop for pizza?" she teased, settling back down. "Or a fly-by burger?"

"No," he chuckled, nuzzling her neck.

"What did you dream of having when you got out?" she murmured vaguely as he found the sweet spot below her ear.

That made him pause.

And the look on his face when he lifted his head to look at her, made her blush.

"Fitz…" A cheeky smile tugged at her lips before she ducked away laughing as he came for her mouth.

* * *

><p>Rowan and Jerry saw the last of the protestors off the Vermont property with the Guilfords, Obeid Hussein, Secret Service agents and police who'd arrived to contain the situation.<p>

Indoors, White House staff were organising the packing under the direction of Felicia and Carlita, while Sameera and Karen kept the children entertained and out of the way.

Once the family was flying back to Washington DC - after saying goodbye to Olivia's friends who were returning to their respective homes - Jerry turned to Rowan and said, "Do you think my dad is really okay after what the FBI did to him?"

"Only time will tell."

"What do you think they did to him?"

"I don't know. I've never been detained by the FBI."

"Yeah, but you're a lawyer. What do your clients tell you?"

"What my clients said – while I was a practising lawyer many, many years ago – is confidential."

"Jeez," Jerry shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Can't even lie in an emergency."

"You're a smart boy, Jerry. Even if I lied to you, you would know it wasn't true, so what's the point?"

"Jerry said they would have electrocuted Dad and waterboarded him," Karen sniffled, snuggling close to Felicia.

In the seat next to them, Marta got up quickly and shifted to a back row, carrying a sleeping Teddy with her.

"That's not true," Felicia reassured quickly.

"See Felicia knows how to lie."

"Jerry!" Rowan said sternly as Karen let out a wail. Then turning to Karen, he said less sternly. "Karen, you're father has not been tortured. He was taken by the FBI, not the CIA. Fitzgerald is safe and he's coming home. You'll see."

"Can Dad sue the FBI for keeping him locked up?" Jerry persisted.

"I'm sure there'll be a way, but if any judgement is made for compensation, that will be come out of taxpayer funds."

"Why can't it come out of FBI funds?"

"The FBI is a government organisation."

"Can't Dad sue the FBI director?"

"He could, but we'd need to look at what the FBI Director's personal assets are worth. Much easier to sue the government."

"But Dad is the government. I mean he's President. So he'll really be suing himself?"

"You have a good point."

"Can Dad waterboard and electrocute the FBI director?"

"Jerry!" Felicia hissed covering Karen's ears, then snapped at Rowan when he said, "Probably, but not at the same time. That would be murder."

* * *

><p>In New York, Senator Lucas Zeke addressed the Occupy Wall Street protestors. "You hate I'm-a-need-a-bailout bankers?"<p>

The crowd roared, "Yes!"

"You hate Big Business that takes your money in subsidies, pays you a beggar's wage while they make billion dollar profits and then hoards that money in the Cayman Islands so they don't have to pay tax?"

"YES!"

"You want government to stop being a friend to one per cent of rich folk like the Cosh brothers; you want them to start representing the people – the 99 per cent that is the rest of us?"

"YES!"

"And how you gonna achieve all that, blockading the streets of New York? You want to change the way this country works – you ain't going to do that by wishing someone will change it for you while you sit out here on your collective asses! You ain't going to do that by stopping tourists, residents and Manhattan shoppers from going about their business.

"You want people to listen to you – ask yourself who has your vote. Have we earned it? Have we earned the salaries that are paid by your tax dollars? Make us listen, hold us to account. This is a democracy, your voice is represented in Government, you need to make sure your tax dollars are representing the majority of tax payers, not the minority of self-interests."

Senator Zeke paused to gauge the mood of the crowd. They remained silent, shifting on their feet. Then someone shouted, "The Arab Spring worked! They got a change in government!"

"The people in the Middle East were protesting for democracy. Three years on, they are still protesting. We have a democratic system in place here in the United States – it's not perfect; it's subject to abuse; it's under constant attack from those in power, and those who want to be in power but we have a system.

"Now I ain't telling you folks what to do, you want to sit out here doing about as much good as praying for rain, wasting everyone's time, stopping Mom & Pop investors from getting their two cents worth, hey go right ahead. But if you want to change the way this country works, get out there and get involved in the democratic process. Get active in your own communities, in your schools, your offices, the offices of your elected officials. You voted for us! Make sure we're doing our jobs!"

* * *

><p>News round-up on Comedy Central…<p>

"…_We've got The White House Car Chase 2 happening in Washington DC tonight. There's the Presidential limousine auditioning for the Indy 500 as it heads towards the Southwest Waterfront. The sole occupant this time appears to Mr Daniel Douglas Langston, in the driver's seat, escaping the tyranny of his wife and beard, the once President Sally Langston. _

"_Oh! And there it goes, folks! Right over the edge into the Potomac River! Man, they need new script writers at the White House, I saw that coming a mile away. _

"_The White House has issued a statement saying the drug-crazed Second Husband is missing, believed drowned. Yep, we've heard it all before. _

"_BTW, that's the second $300,000 car that's been dunked in the river with DC Police and emergency crew on hand to make the rescue. So what I want to know is, when did the White House start operating on a blockbuster budget, instead of crowd-sourced indie-movie funding?..._"

* * *

><p>The FBI director stared at the printout of the email on his desk, reading it for the third time that morning.<p>

"_My dear Olivia,_

"_Time to cut and run. As the song says, 'This town ain't big enough for the both of us'. _

"_I should stick around and help clean up the mess my dear wife has made of this great nation of ours but since I helped turn Sally into the crazy lady she is today, I feel my work is done._

"_By now, you, and the rest of the country, would know that Sally has been spending my inheritance on finding a cure for my 'Godless' tendencies to love men. They'll be saying the woman has been funding a drug which increases psychopathy in the human mind. What you may not know is that Sally has been using me as a guinea pig for an unauthorised drug trial. And what she does not know is that I've been feeding her the same pills, ever since I found out about her involvement with Global Unity._

"_Did the drug turn me crazy? Did the drug turn Sally crazy? I wouldn't say that. I'd say that it helps bring out the bad in all of us without any guilt. I want to make that clear— the drug enhances the evil in us, but it doesn't inject what isn't there – so when my wife sees a copy of this email, don't let her blame the drugs for what she has done. They are only partly to blame, a small part._

"_As for our own very beautiful friendship, my dear, I'm hoping that you bear no ill will towards me for taking you night-swimming in the Potomac. If you hadn't panicked, you'd have known you were safe. I wasn't going to drown you. Not when I had a guy who was willing to pay me a princely sum to have you as his lover. But I'm not one to hold a grudge. Not when you've done a spectacular job of exposing my wife for the disaster she is. _

_Until we meet again,_

_Daniel Douglas-Langston'_

The FBI deputy looked at his boss. "So the country went to hell and back because the husband gave the wife some gotdamn pills?"

The FBI director rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't even know where to begin with this."

"What are we going do?'

"Same thing we did with agent Mike's statement that he had to shoot a fellow agent for trying to drown the First Lady in the vice president's limousine after he refused an order to stop; in addition to the Report confirming that Mr Langston and his agent lover were running a prostitution ring within the Secret Service. Just bury everything. Bury them so deep, it'll be another couple of centuries before it surfaces."

"Unless Wikileaks already has a copy."

"Damnit!"

* * *

><p>In the Oval Office, Sally Langston sat down heavily in one of the armchairs with the copy of the email in her hand.<p>

"What are you going to do with this?" she asked Fitz, standing with his back to her as he stared unseeingly into the darkness of the Rose Garden.

He turned away from the window and walked back to the Resolute Desk. "What I'm going to do with the other documents and files your husband kindly provided my wife, keep it safe."

Sally sat back. "You cannot blame me for what happened, Fitzgerald. Daniel-Douglas drugged me. He has admitted as much."

"From what he says, he gave you a mood-enhancing drug and your mood was to destroy my family and the democratic processes in this country."

"I did what I did because you failed in your primary duty to protect the freedoms guaranteed by our Constitution, and because you were destroying the moral fabric of our society by marrying the woman who destroyed your marriage."

"Olivia didn't destroy my marriage. My marriage was dead, and Olivia made me realise it. I don't believe in the sanctity of marriage, Sally. As you do, to the point of staying married to a man who could never be attracted to you as a woman. I believe we should be true to ourselves and our feelings, and my feelings for Olivia have not changed from the day I met her. I love her. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, but I will insist that you respect our right to be happy."

Sally pursed her lips, glancing away. "I will of course, resign," she said tightly, after a long pause.

"I will expect it. But it is clear to me you have far greater support within the Republican Party for the values you hold dear, than the one that I do."

Sally's gaze narrowed. "What are you suggesting, Fitzgerald?"

* * *

><p>A few days later, President Fitzgerald Grant III stood before the media, with his wife and children by his side.<p>

"I am here to thank the American people for your support of my Presidency and my family during the extraordinary events of recent times. And I want to thank you all for the constructive and effective action you have taken to return this country to the traditions we uphold in democracy, freedom and justice.

"Further to this, I would urge all states and territories to sign up to the National Popular Vote bill. It is important to make our democracy as robust as it can be. To do otherwise, could bring us back to the nightmare scenes of our immediate past.

"I urge this as I feel Partisan Politics is doing us more harm than good. We are no longer a 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people' that Abraham Lincoln envisioned in his Gettysburg address more than 150 years ago. Today we are a bunch of career politicians, funded by the deep pockets of self-interested individuals and big business, to further the goals and gains of a few.

"I, for one, don't represent the One Per Cent. I represent you all, 100 per cent but I also stand for equity in opportunity and all the social factors that contribute to a level playing field, giving us all a chance to achieve the American Dream, whatever that dream may be.

"For some time now, it has been clear to me that there is a dissonance between my political ideals and those of the party I have represented my entire political career.

"In the past few weeks, it has also been clear to me that the Republican Party agrees with me. So I am here today to announce that I have resigned from the Republican Party. I will finish the remainder of my Presidential term in office as an independent. And I will contest the upcoming election in November as an Independent, with Senator Lucas Zeke of Georgia as my running mate.

"Mrs Sally Langston has resigned from her position as Vice President, and has now taken over as leader of the Republican Party…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OMG how do people with Tumblr get ANYTHING DONE outside of Tumblr scrolling and reblogging – I HAVE LOST DAYS on it!**

**Anyway in researching my latest chapter about 'Improbable Events in American Politics' – I couldn't actually find anything on the ways a President could quit his party and remain President – i.e. is there some law, regulation that would prevent him from doing so? But I did read in Wikipedia that US President John Tyler was expelled from the Whig Party in 1841 and was in effect an independent President for the rest of his term. So I grabbed that tenuous factoid with both hands, feet and all my teeth – even though I realise several seachanges have occurred between 1841 and now.**

**In other things I've learnt as I write this series (i.e the mistakes I've made through my own ignorance) – is that the little old lady in Rhode island I wrote about some time back isn't going to get anyone excited because of the electoral college voting system used in the United States. Apparently the system ignores her vote because she doesn't live in a swing state (states where no one is sure if they'll vote Democrat or Republican at each election – whereas Rhode Island has voted for Democrats in the last 4 elections) **

**From my recent 'internet education' – it looks like the college system focuses only on swing states, whereas the popular vote in theory makes every vote count. Not that it would have made any difference to President Obama, who won both the popular vote and the electoral college vote, but it looks like there are moves to incorporate both to make the American vote more democratic. Because George W Bush who lost the popular vote became President thanks to the Supreme Court, and some states don't want another 'loser' as President.  
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**BTW, DayDreamLover I know you were fond of Daniel Douglas, but hopefully you're not too sad about the 'good' evil-dude portrayal!**

**And thank you to everyone who has enjoyed the craziness of this story and the real life events (in other parts of the world) that were incorporated into the last chapter as well as the possible EU reactions to what happened. ;))))**

**References: (Please see Tumblr for actual links on Scandal-Maniac, BTW you don't need Tumblr to read the blog - I speak as an experienced Tumblr stalker who didn't have an account for years! Well actually two, since I discovered Tumblr after Scandal.  
><strong>

** /article/index/247813/were-halfway-to-eliminating-the-electoral-college**

** . ?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20130126&_r=0**

** articles/18980/popular-vote-2012-though-obama-won-the-popular-vote-lower-turnout-means-no-mandate**

** eric-black-ink/2012/10/10-reasons-why-electoral-college-problem**

** /justice/2014/03/26/3419339/new-york-legislature-backs-plan-to-effectively-abolish-the-electoral-college/**


	29. Independence

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**NO Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Before The Announcement…<strong>

Olivia smiled at Fitz, smoothing her fingers over his shaven jaw.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled softly, lowering his head to brush a soft kiss across her lips. "You like?"

"Me like." She slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he lifted her off her feet and carried her back to bed.

"I've been thinking…" she murmured as he lowered her gently onto the sheets.

"About the many ways you're going to have your way with me?" He shot her a teasing glance.

"About you leaving politics."

He paused, then sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "What?"

She leaned into him, linking her hand through his arm. "You always wanted to, Fitz. You've been trying to leave the White House ever since…" She stopped.

"Ever since I realised you're the most important person in my life; when I wanted to escape from all this and run away with you." He reached out to smooth a thumb across her cheek. "Do you want to run away with me, Liv?"

"Yes." She leaned into his caress. "You've said it over and over again, but I wouldn't listen. But now I will listen; I am listening, Fitz. I want to run away with you. All of us, together, to be safe. "

He stared at her for a long moment, then he started to chuckle softly.

"What? What did I say that was funny?" she asked, as he eased her onto his lap.

"Livvie, you remember the time you told me about what our world would look like, if Sally ever became President? Well, now we both know the reality has exceeded anything we could have imagined."

"…So you want to stay in office?"

"Yes, Livvie, I want to stay and finish this term, and contest for another term." The humour fading somewhat, Fitz asked, "Can you live with that?"

Olivia cupped his face and kissed him fiercely, before shifting back to give a firm, "No."

"No?"

"No, I can't live with '_that'_ whatever _that_ is, but I can live with you - aargh!" She shrieked as he toppled her onto her back, trying to tickle and kiss her at the same time. "Fitz! No! Stop!"

He stopped, looking down at her with a cheeky smile. "Tease."

"You love it." She grinned, sliding her arms and legs around him.

He lowered his head to begin feathering soft kisses all over her face. "I would leave if you really wanted me to."

"No," she whispered, matching him kiss for kiss. "I like having an idealist as President."

"An idealist who has a very pragmatic wife." He drew back. "So how would you feel if I went to the ballot as an Independent?"

* * *

><p>"You're quitting the Republican Party? The GOP? The Grand Old Party that you, your father, and possibly your granddaddy belonged to? That party? To run as an Independent? Do you know how many Independents have won an election?" Cyrus glared at Fitz as they walked out of the Cabinet Room.<p>

"One – George Washington."

"He doesn't count! He was a Founding Father. The guy had no teeth and he still got elected!"

"George Washington had teeth, he wore ivory dentures."

"Will you stop with the teeth! And think about what this move will do your career!" Cy snapped as they entered the Oval Office. "Have you given a thought to the Republican Convention? If you quit the party, we lose the 30-40 million audience who tune in to watch that circus!"

"Cy," Fitz said patiently, making himself comfortable on a couch. "I don't want to lead a party that's gone against me. Sally Langston is a better fit for the current Republican agenda. And the time is now to experiment with a non-partisan approach."

"Experiments like that could blow up in our face. I would strongly recommend that you replace Sally's henchmen in the Cabinet with a few more moderate Republicans and be done with it."

"Oh, I plan on bringing in moderates, along with Democrats and Independents to balance things out at the Executive level."

"And what about Sally? You're not going to keep her on, in some ridiculous gesture of goodwill?"

"No. She will be stepping down."

"Who's going to replace her on your ticket?'

"Senator Lucas Zeke."

* * *

><p>"Man, did they give you a lobotomy back when you were detained?" Zeke stared at Fitz, as they meandered over the White House lawn. "I am black, I'm gay and I'm a Republican. That shit is going to make it fucking impossible for you to win with me on your ticket."<p>

Fitz angled a glance at Zeke. "Are you turning down my offer?"

"Hell yes! Because you're too dumb to realise that 21 days of Sally Langston isn't going to make people quit their prejudices. Not when they've coddled those beliefs for a couple of hundred years."

"People change, Zeke. They see past the obvious when they realise what's good for them. And they know that Sally isn't good for them."

"Man, the weed down in New Mexico must have been fine as fuck. You're up there flying with the birds."

Fitz grinned. "Nothing beats the stuff we smoked down in Colombia."

Zeke chuckled. "Yeah, that stuff sure was good. So what I'm hearing is you're going to legalise marijuana as your first order of business on returning to office?"

"No. I'm not that high."

Zeke chuckled again. Then glancing over his shoulder, he muttered, "Look, the real deal is that other thing I've got going."

"Your secret operations in Georgia?"

"They aren't so secret now, thanks to Langston recording our movements in the Dent case."

"Sally's supporters can't use that, not when we've got Daniel's crimes hanging over their heads."

"There's nothing stopping them from handing over the surveillance footage to the Democrats."

"I've got dirt on Reston too. He was a client of Liv's."

Zeke exaggerated a double take. "Man, the two of you are some team."

"Yeah," Fitz smiled.

Then Zeke eyed Fitz warily. "Do you ever stop to think, what kind of dirt they've got on you?"

"All the time, Zeke. All the time."

* * *

><p>After the announcement<p>

"… _President Fitzgerald Grant III today announced key changes to his Cabinet after a spate of resignations from key supporters of former Vice President Sally Grant. With President Grant breaking away from partisan politics by becoming an Independent in the final months of his term, it is perhaps unsurprising that he has chosen to fill the vacancies with Democrats and Independents. The new appointees have strong ties to Congress and are popular in their electorates but It's anyone's guess how effective or productive this Cabinet will be in the final stages of the first and some believe final term of the Grant Administration…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia was heading towards the Oval Office, trying to wipe Teddy's nose, while trying not to trip over Daisy and Darth trailing after her, when she bumped into the new Secretary of Homeland Security, Edison Davis.<p>

"Mrs Grant," Edison smirked as Daisy growled and Darth lay down at Olivia's feet and whined.

"Mr Davis," Olivia smiled, then gestured towards the dogs."Ignore these two. They're still in a bad mood because of all the travelling they've done in the past few weeks."

"I won't take it personally but you know I've never liked dogs."

"How are you settling in?" Olivia asked brightly as Daisy growled again, a bit louder this time.

"I like it just fine. I guess I should say thank you."

Olivia looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"You must have put in a good word for me with Grant to get me into the White House. The man has been very strategic in his appointments."

"Dah!" Teddy chortled.

Olivia smiled, laying her cheek against Teddy's hair. "Well, I may have mentioned that your lobbying efforts in the Senate helped stall Sally's intentions to have Fitz declared insane. But there were others who said the same about you."

"Then I should thank you for leading the charge."

"And I should thank you for helping Fitz stay in office."

Edison smiled at her. "And how is that working for you – your painful, difficult, devastating, life changing extraordinary love?"

Olivia scrunched her nose. "It's extraordinary and life-changing. That much is true."

"Then I'm glad it worked out better than you expected, Olivia," Edison smiled.

"Thank you," Olivia smiled back, but watching his departing back, the smile faded into a frown.

At her feet, Daisy gave another growl as Darth got to his feet and yipped.

"What do you know that I don't," Olivia mused looking at the dogs. They both wagged their tails in response.

* * *

><p>Fitz and Cyrus were chatting to the ex-Pentagon chief who was now Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of State who'd kept his post, when Olivia walked into Lauren's office.<p>

"Ah, the woman of the hour," The Secretary of State smiled. "They're still talking about you on Capitol Hill."

"All good things I hope," Olivia smiled.

"Very good things," he assured, shaking Teddy's hand before both men took their leave.

Daisy and Darth had already wandered into the Oval office and staked their claim to one of the couches when the others trooped in.

Fitz closed the door, giving Olivia a level glance. "You looked very cosy with Edison back there. What were you talking about?"

"His new appointment, he thought I'd put in a good word for him."

"You did. Several good words," Fitz muttered taking Teddy from Olivia's arms.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Cyrus glanced from one to the other. "Um, about China…"

"What about China?" Olivia glanced from Fitz to Cyrus, when it became clear that Fitz wasn't going to respond.

"China is doing some diplomatic grumbling."

"Understandable after recent events," Olivia murmured, watching Fitz.

"Understandable or not, China along with Japan own nearly half our foreign-owned public debt. Now China is concerned about the safety of its assets, making the point that US debt is guaranteed by a government that is going through a period of uncertainty. Their words, not mine."

"But what can they do? China isn't going to dump their stockpile of US financial securities. It would be bad for Chinese exports as that would make the Yuan less attractive against the Dollar." Olivia glanced at Fitz, who was looking at her intently, accompanied by a reddening of his ears.

Hiding a smile, she bridged the space between them, leaning against him, as he nuzzled her temple while Teddy grabbed her jacket sleeve.

Cyrus cleared his throat and muttered, "Yeah, that's right. Their purpose in holding our dollar to ransom - so their currency remains low enough to make exports cheap and imports into China expensive - would be lost."

"Since it's not in their best interest to threaten us with our own debt. I don't see what the problem is," Olivia said, blushing as Fitz rumbled a soft groan in her ear.

Cyrus studied a point above Olivia's head. "The problem is that the Chinese have wanted to replace the US dollar with a new global currency controlled by the IMF for years. They believe the world's reliance on the greenback is the root of all evil."

"The reason for global financial and economic crises," Fitz whispered, kissing Olivia's ear. "The Wall Street meltdown domino effect. But if they succeed in their campaign for a global currency, that's going to impact our borrowing rates."

"Yes," Cyrus agreed gruffly, "So to appease the Chinese and stop them from pushing our recovering economy back over the edge, the Cabinet consensus, or I should say, the _New Cabinet_ consensus is that we should play nice and send an official delegation to smooth any ruffled feathers."

"A trade delegation? That makes sense," Olivia nodded.

"No, a delegation more closely connected with the Presidency."

"But Fitz can't go, he's too busy sorting Sally's mess."

"Yes, that's why the Cabinet feels you should go. They were impressed with the way you handled the United Nations General Assembly."

"I don't want you to go," Fitz said firmly, as Olivia's startled gaze met his.

"But she has to, if you can't go."

"Why me?" Olivia frowned.

"It's less threatening. We don't want one of the guys going over there to tell the Chinese their business. I hear they don't like that sort of thing. We need someone who'll put them at ease."

"Zeke can go," Fitz muttered.

"Zeke hasn't been officially sworn in as Vice President yet."

Olivia exchanged a wry glance with Fitz over Teddy's head, then turned to Cyrus. "Do I get a say in all this?"

"Of course, you can tell me tomorrow when you'd like to go."

* * *

><p>"I don't want you to go," Fitz repeated when they were alone.<p>

Smiling, she tugged him down by his tie for a kiss, then they both laughed when Teddy smushed his face between them.

"I missed this," Fitz said as they settled down on the carpet with Teddy . "I missed us. I don't want you traipsing half a world away in a few days, and having to miss you all over again."

Olivia leaned in to kiss him again, snuffling a laugh when his hand sneaked under her jacket. But she quickly shifted away, when his head lowered in the direction of his hand.

"Come back here," Fitz growled.

Olivia shook her head, laughing.

"It's okay. Now that Tom's in charge of Secret Service Operations here, we don't have to worry about who's watching."

"Yes, we do. Teddy doesn't have a rewind and delete button."

"Livvie..."

"No." Then in an attempt to distract him, she asked, "Who suggested it? When the idea of a delegation was brought up, who put my name in the ring?"

"Cyrus."

"I see."

Fitz gave her a rueful smile. "Should I be flattered that the two of you are playing tug of war with me?"

"Only if you want to get used to the idea of having the West Wing run our lives."

"So you're going to tell them where to shove it?" Fitz said cheerfully.

"Not unless you have a better suggestion?"

"No," he muttered, lying down on the carpet. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Okay," she smiled at him, walking her fingers up his chest. "Can we talk about you being jealous about Edison?"

"I wasn't jealous." He captured her hand.

"Lies."

"Okay, fine. I was jealous." He looked at her solemnly. "You were engaged to him twice."

"I broke it off with him twice. And I married you."

He tugged her down into the enclosure of his arms. "Yeah, you did marry me," He kissed the tip of her nose. "But I don't want you smiling at him."

"Fitz!"

"What?"

* * *

><p>"Okay," Olivia said walking into Cyrus' office the next morning.<p>

"And the Jeopardy question is?" Cyrus beamed at her.

"Will that smile get any wider when I tell you I'll be going to China? With Jerry and Karen. During Spring break. Bonus round question: Can that be arranged?"

"Spring Break? With the kids? I think that's do-able. And I suppose that Chinese kid, Jerry's friend, will want to go too?"

"Peter's Malaysian."

"Yeah, whatever. Maybe he can save us the cost of an interpreter."

"I'm sure Peter would love to go, he can see his parents, if they can make it to China. It would help reassure them that he's fine after the faux coup we had."

"Yeah, they do coups much better in that part of the world. Or is it crackdowns. I always get that part mixed-up."

Olivia chuckled as she headed for the door. "Gotta go. Fitz is having a meeting with the Attorney General and he wants me there."

Cyrus expelled a loud gust of air, halting Olivia in her tracks.

"What's wrong?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Olivia, going to China is one thing, but getting mixed up in matters of state… I don't think that's wise."

"Why not?"

"Liv, I'm telling you this as a friend. You know who's most worried about Fitz as an Independent President? Not the Republicans; not the Democrats; it's the people here at the White House. They see Fitz as a loose cannon, and they believe you're the one lighting the fuse. You need to tread lightly around here, or there could be more trips to China on your horizon."

"I see... then better start taking Mandarin lessons from Peter ASAP."

She smiled closing the door on Cyrus' exasperated expletive.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, thank you all so much for reading and leaving your lovely, inspiring comments ;))) **

**I also have to thank a couple of people for the evolution of this chapter - Clio1792 for reminding me that stability is more achievable with Fitz remaining a Republican but because that ship had sailed in a different direction, I changed my mind about making Zeke an Independent as well! And Kikinickmc for suggesting an overseas trip – I'd been grappling with the idea of how to bring the Cyrus vs Olivia competitive edge back and her trip suggestion gave me all the help I needed! **

**Of course to get to China, I made Chop Suey of the information gathered from the following articles all in the name of dramatic licence (i.e. lying for effect!) Apologies to real economists and accountants out there!**

wiki/National_debt_of_the_United_States#cite_note-8

news/2014-01-29/nothing-lasts-forever-world-bank-chief-economist-calls-end-dollar-reserve-currency


	30. Persons of Interest

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I believe they need to go to a better home, where they will be loved and nurtured to their full potential - except for Joke and Mellie, they can remain at Shondaland to be feted in all their inglorious mediocrity.  
><strong>

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"You don't have to go," Fitz murmured, cuddling Olivia on his lap after she'd heaved most of her breakfast down the toilet.<p>

"I have to go. I can't cancel, not after all the preparations," Olivia muttered, her eyes closed, her head resting on his shoulder.

"You're sick. You should see the doctor."

"You want me to get a doctor's certificate to give to the Chinese," Olivia smiled wanly. "Please excuse Olivia Pope-Grant from attending a very official visit because she's not well."

"Yeah." He kissed her temple. "I'll sign the note, and add the Presidential seal."

She pressed her fingers to her lips and touched 'the kiss' to his mouth.

"Kiss me properly," he urged huskily.

"I've just been sick."

"Good point."

With a soft chuckle, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

He snaked his arms around her waist and hugged her back.

After a long pause, she whispered, "I should get ready."

Without letting her go, he mumbled against her shoulder, "So you're doing this?"

"Yes." She ruffled the curls at his nape in a gentle caress. "I'll only be gone for one week."

"Seven days, 168 hours, 10,080 minutes, 604,800 seconds. Anything could happen."

"Tom is sending people he trusts. I should be fine."

He sighed against her neck. "Okay, since I can't keep you chained to my side. Let's get you cleaned up so I can give you a proper kiss goodbye."

* * *

><p>"Are you really feeling okay, Mom?" Karen asked, inspecting Olivia's face as they sat snuggled on the couch on Air Force One.<p>

"I'm fine, Baby K. It must have been something I ate, but it's out of my system now," Olivia assured, dropping a kiss on Karen's hair.

"I've got sick bags, travel pills and whale music if you want to take a nap," her chief of staff said from across the aisle. "President's orders."

"No, really, I'm fine," Olivia insisted, feeling her cheeks heat.

"Karen, why don't you come sit with me," Felicia patted the recliner next to hers. "Then Olivia can stretch out and get comfortable."

"No, it's okay," Olivia held on Karen. "I'm not ill."

"Even if you were, you won't look it after we're done with you," Alisa, the make-up artist looked away from the porthole.

"Yeah, we'll make sure you look flawless even after a 14-hour flight," said Tia.

"It's good of you both to come on this trip, leaving your kids," Olivia murmured, stroking her fingers lightly over Karen's hair.

"Well, I don't know about Alisa but I wasn't going to pass up on a free trip to China. And the kids won't miss me too much, they're going to Disneyland with their cousins."

In the background, Jerry was asking Peter, "Wow, I can't believe the Chinese have blocked the Internet. You're saying we don't have access to Google, Twitter, Youtube and Facebook in China?"

"They've blocked a whole lot more sites," Peter said. "But sometimes they unblock them. A few people in Shanghai have access to Facebook, and internet activists are always finding ways around the official firewall."

"At least they haven't blocked Instagram, so I'll still be able to post pictures of the trip."

"I wouldn't do that indiscriminately," Rowan said grimly, not looking up from the magazine he was supposedly reading. "The Chinese are very sensitive to their image. That's why Olivia couldn't bring the press with her on this trip."

Jerry scowled at Rowan. "They can't censor me."

"You are representing your father. Anything you do will get him in trouble, and he has enough of that to deal with already."

Peter nodded. "Yep. You do anything and China will get mad at America, because you're the President's son. It's the Asian way, to blame parents for the way their kids behave."

Jerry rolled his eyes. "This trip is going to be so boring. I can tell."

* * *

><p>News of the First Lady's Trip from international media agencies<p>

…_The First Lady, Olivia Pope-Grant arrives in China with the two Grant kids, Jerry and Karen. This tax-payer-funded vacation includes Mrs Pope-Grant's parents, and a friend of the First Son, Jerry. It is unclear why there was a need for this trip, at tax-payers' expense, at this time. All White House officials will say is that the vacation to China was at the invitation of the Chinese First Family, specifically the First Lady…" _

…_Olivia Pope-Grant __enjoys a holiday, while her husband is left to clean up the mess at home_._ The head of White House Secret Service Tom Larsen will not release information about the exact number of White House aides that accompanied the US First Lady to China. The reason for the secrecy is said to be security, which has been beefed up on the Pope-Grant's first official overseas vacation…_"

…_The First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant is flying without a parachute on her first diplomatic trip overseas to the People's Republic of China. Mrs Pope-Grant, a neophyte on the diplomatic scene, is travelling with her parents and step-children. Political observers have questioned the expense to the public purse on what appears to be nothing more than a family vacation…" _

* * *

><p>"Man, I forgot the joys of flying cattle class," Harrison muttered, narrowly avoiding Abby's elbow as she adjusted a neck pillow on her seat. "Now I wish I'd sold a pair of shoes for a better seat."<p>

Across the narrow aisle in the economy section of the aircraft, Quinn leaned over and hissed. "We need those shoes to pay our bills!" She paused to let a handful of people get to the toilets. "We haven't worked for nearly a month, and we're still getting our finances sorted by the accountants."

Abby yanked the pillow into place. "After that crazy bitch froze all our assets, so we couldn't hire lawyers. I hope Sally Langston rots in hell."

The man one seat up, turned around. "This country sure went to hell and back in a hand-basket with a woman in charge."

"Well, to be strictly accurate, she just made use of a precedent set in 1989 by the Supreme Court saying it's okay for the Government to freeze a defendant's assets before a criminal trial, in order to prevent them from hiring a defense attorney," said Quinn.

"Hey! Stop giving free legal advice!" Abby glared at Quinn, then turned to the man. "You want legal advice? We charge $800 an hour."

"Sheesh, I was just making conversation," The man muttered, putting on his earphones and facing front, but not before adding, "That bitch needs to remember it's a free country."

"I wish they'd let me bring my gun on board," Abby scowled in his direction.

"Calm down. We don't want an international incident right now," Harrison murmured, just as Huck walked up holding the hand of a little boy.

The other associates stared with varying expressions of alarm and concern.

"Who's the kid?" Harrison ventured at last.

"I don't know. He said he wanted to walk me back to my seat."

"You stole a kid?" Quinn hissed in outrage. "Take him back! Before we get arrested for kidnapping or something!"

"Kid, shoo!" Abby waved her hands at the kid.

The kid stared back impassively until a voice yelled, "Brian!"

"Yes, mom?"

"Get back here!"

"Okay, mom." Brian let go of Huck's hand and ran back in the direction of the irate voice.

"Man, this is going to be one very long flight," Harrison groaned, as Huck pushed past to get his window seat.

"Twelve hours and counting," came the wry response from the front seat.

* * *

><p>News from the Wire Services…<p>

"… _Chinese social media, Weibo, explodes with news of US First Lady Olivia Grant's arrival at Beijing International Airport this afternoon. Grant was greeted by the Chinese Assistant Foreign Minister and US ambassador to China. _

"_The US First Lady instantly charmed the host contingent with her surprising fluency of Mandarin, while impressing Chinese bloggers with her flawless sense of style after travelling halfway across the world. Grant arrived in Beijing wearing a dress designed by Derek Lam, an American designer with a Chinese heritage. _

"_Meanwhile, the First Family will reportedly be staying at the Westin Hotel close to the US Embassy. The JinMao Presidential Suite, which has a listed price of $8400 a night, comes with a 24-hour private butler service as well as a separate lounge, kitchen, sauna and steam room. That a one-bedroom suite. Our sources say that a 70-person entourage is accompanying the US First Lady on what has been promoted as a cultural and educational trip._

"_Tomorrow, Grant is due to spend the day with the Chinese First Lady, visiting schools in the morning, then attending a private dinner with her host _…"

* * *

><p>"Wow, Mom, I didn't know you spoke Mandarin." Jerry looked in awe at Olivia. "Pete said you speak better than he does."<p>

"Why, thank you," Olivia smiled at Peter, who nodded solemnly.

"Can you speak Mandarin?" Karen asked Rowan.

"Not as well as Olivia, but I have a functional grasp of the language."

"He means he speaks good, not excellent."

"Yes, thank you, Jerry. I don't believe I am in need of your translation services but—"

"Dad, Jer, don't. It's been a long day." Olivia pleaded softly.

"Yes, a good night's rest should do us all a lot of good, considering we've lost a day in travel," murmured Felicia.

The Secret Service agents stood impassively silent as the elevator approached their floor. Rooms on the entire floor had been taken over for family, White House aides and agents. The Secret Service had also ensured that meals were being prepared under their scrutiny, and the elevators and passageways were free of other guests when Olivia was leaving and entering.

Just then the elevator doors opened to reveal a White House aide looking anxious. "Ma'am, we have a problem."

* * *

><p>"What were you thinking, travelling to China on the sly?" Rowan railed at Olivia's associates, who sat slumped around a table in an immigration interview room. "Do you have any idea of the diplomatic disaster you've created?"<p>

"We're not travelling on the sly!" Abby shot back.

"We're here on vacation," said Quinn with a little nod to stress the point.

"To take in the sights," Harrison said, his arms crossed over his chest.

"And make sure Olivia doesn't end up in the Yangtze River," muttered Huck.

"Huck!" The others glared at him.

"And we're here on vacation," Huck added.

"You're here under some misguided attempt to protect my daughter when she has the United States Secret Service looking after her?"

"That didn't stop her from ending up in the Potomac," Harrison said.

"Where is Olivia anyway? Why isn't she here to fix this?" Abby scowled.

"She is fixing this! From the hotel! With the help of the US Ambassador and Fitz! The Secret Service won't let her go anywhere they haven't secured. And I don't think the Chinese authorities would take kindly to having Beijing airport evacuated so she can sort through the mess you're in; not to mention alerting the media about what's just happened!"

"How long are we going to be detained at the airport like we're criminals?" Quinn asked.

"You _are_ criminals! You've all got criminal records with an Interpol Green notice that you are persons of interests who are a threat to public safety!"

"That damned Sally Langston! I'm going to put a hit out on her when I get home," Abby muttered.

Rowan snapped his head in her direction. "May I strongly recommend, Ms Whelan, that you and your gang of deviants have your criminal records sealed or expunged as a first priority on your return home."

"What? We have to go home? What about our vacation? Who's going to keep Olivia safe?"

"Olivia will be safe. As soon as we get the all clear, I will organise your safe passage back to the United States. And in future may I suggest you run your travel itinerary with Olivia before you leave the US of A."

* * *

><p>White House Press Briefing. Chief of Staff Cyrus Beene takes questions in the media room…<p>

"_Is it true that the First Lady's staff were deported by Chinese authorities for having criminal records?"_

"Mrs Grant's associates were not deported. They returned to the US to clear their names after being wrongful incarcerated during Sally Langston's time in the Oval Office. Mrs Langston suspended Habeas Corpus, detaining them without a trial."

"_Why were they in China in the first place?'_

"They were on vacation."

"_As part of Mrs Grant's travelling group?"_

"No, they were travelling independently of the First Lady's entourage, paying their own way. I understand they've been fascinated by China after Olivia made the effort to master the national language."

"_Is it true that a school mate of the President's son is travelling to China at the American tax-payers' expense?"_

"No, that is not true. Peter Leong is travelling with the First Lady at his father's expense. Mr Leong will be hosting a private dinner for the First Lady in China where he does business. He felt it would also be a great time for a family reunion."

"_But the First Lady's father and step-mother are travelling at tax-payers' expense?"_

"They are travelling at the President's expense. Next question."

"_Why have we not heard a peep out of China regarding the deportation?"_

"Let me repeat that Olivia Pope's associates were not deported. They returned to America on their own volition. As for the Chinese authorities, I believe they are not overly concerned with the travel plans of visitors leaving their country."

"_Is the President concerned at all that the Chinese media has colluded in this inter-governmental cover-up?"_

"Well, I don't want to burst your bubble regarding conspiracy theories. But the state-controlled media has priorities that don't run to idle gossip and rumour-mongering."

* * *

><p>US First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant engages in Question and Answer session with students at a Chinese University, speaking in Mandarin…<p>

"_Mrs Grant, the Chinese media is saying that your husband's government approves of China's state-run media. Does that mean the United States will abolish freedom of the press?"_

"My husband's primary job as President is to protect the United States Constitution, and the First Amendment endorses free speech. My husband and I firmly believe that free speech and an independent media are essential for a democracy to work effectively."

"_Mrs First Lady, we hear that the President wants to stop people from owning guns, but that he is not having much success. How does he plan to change his strategy to ensure success?"_

"My husband is concerned about the issue of safety. It's his job to defend people's right to own guns as part of a Constitutional protection, but at the same time he wants to make sure these lethal weapons are sold and kept safely. He does not want children to have access to guns, and he does not want guns sold to people with a history of mental illness. But he cannot change laws without the support of Congress. Instead what he has chosen to do, is issue administrative orders in the public's best interest."

"_Mrs Grant, what was it like being a political prisoner in your own home?"_

"At the time I was more concerned about my husband. That he was safe and well. But it did increase my appreciation for the freedoms we have, and I am even more determined to see that they are protected."

"_Madam First Lady, America is a democracy with a Constitution guaranteeing civil liberty, yet it suffered a non-military coup. Do you see this as a weakness of the Capitalist system of politics dependent on a market economy?"_

"That's an interesting question. I would say that far from being a weakness, the experience highlighted our strength in having a legal system that is independent of the government. The judiciary plays an important role in making sure our Constitutional rights are protected. Having said that, we must never assume that our system of government is perfect, it needs work and constant vigilance to make sure that small groups of people with self-interests don't override a system that's in place to serve the interests of all citizens."

* * *

><p>News from Reuters and the Associated Press…<p>

"_US First Lady has earned the moniker 'Mrs Diplomat' after successfully side-stepping a minefield of political questions from Chinese university students. She reiterated the importance of free speech while avoiding any overt criticism of the Chinese state-controlled media. She even responded adroitly to questions about the recent political turmoil in the US, and her own incarceration in reference to the need to protect US constitutional freedoms. All of this was conveyed with a light hand that has won the approval of Chinese authorities. This is in stark contrast to the 1995 visit of then-First Lady Hillary Rodham-Clinton whose comments regarding China's human rights violations left lingering resentment, even to this day..."_

Fitz chuckled as Teddy slapped his chin, while Cyrus muted the television. "It looks like Liv saved your ass on that one, Cy. I'm thinking of giving her an official diplomatic portfolio after this."

"You may want to delay that initiative until she masters the art of keeping her staff on a short leash."

"I don't know about that. I like that they wanted to protect Liv, and she handled the situation with minimum input from me."

"Helps to be in a country with stringent media censorship and authorities used to protecting public officials," Cyrus muttered.

"The Secret Service Agents said Huck had Olivia's itinerary on a White House letterhead. You wouldn't happen to know how he got hold of that, would you?"

"From Olivia, is my guess."

Fitz pulled his tie out of Teddy's mouth. "Olivia says not."

"I'll look into it. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"No. I think we're fine. Let me know if you find anything. In the meantime, I'll be in the Oval Office watching reruns of Liv hitting it out of the ballpark."

Cyrus smiled watching Fitz leave, carrying a gurgling Teddy. After the door closed, he turned to scowl at pictures of Olivia on his television screen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, how are you all – what, turtles have been born and pensioned off since the last time I posted a chapter? No! Actually, as my 84-years Guest reviewer said – it truly has been 84 years and my only excuse (which really doesn't excuse me) is that I've become a Tumblr addict. It's terrible (and wonderful) but I stayed off it most of today and finished this chapter!**

**Thank you to everyone still reading this story, despite my wayward writing habits, and giving me the encouragement to continue – love yous all ;)))**

**So Olivia is still in China and her ability to speak Mandarin was actually swiped from a Scandal episode. I don't remember which one. The rest, I misappropriated from Michelle Obama's trip to China.**

**Reported net news titbits – Michelle was called '_Mrs Diplomat_'; stories and pictures about her trip got a billion hits in China (the country's population is only 1.35 billion); Michelle impressed the Chinese with her 'soft diplomacy', her fashion, her multi-generational family (daughters, and mother); her work ethic; her study habits. And um, straight-talking Hillary Clinton did offend the Chinese in 1995. Apparently they - like just about everyone else - prefer the carrot rather than the stick method of diplomacy.**

**For reference links go to Scandal-Maniac on Tumblr.**


	31. Labour Pains

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters - which is a tragedy. Really. There needs to be a humane society for fictional TV characters.  
><strong>

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Olivia smiled as the Fitz phone started buzzing in her bag.<p>

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Whatcha doing?"

"I'm on my way to a private dinner with the Chinese First Lady."

"Watcha wearing?"

Jerry rolled his eyes, and said loudly, "Dad, we're in the car!"

"So you can't talk about your underwear?" Fitz groaned, while Olivia tried to shut the speaker phone and Karen slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle.

"The kids heard," Olivia said primly, when she had the phone under control.

"Yeah, we'll need to see a shrink when we get home. A proper shrink, not some hack sent by the FBI," Jerry said loud enough for his father to hear.

Fitz rumbled a sigh. "I miss you all."

"We miss you too, Fitz. So much." Olivia put the phone on speaker again, urging the kids closer. "How's Teddy?"

"He misses you too. We're both lonely and miserable without you."

"Daddy, we went to the Forbidden City today," Karen inserted.

"I know, pumpkin, I saw the pictures on Jerry's Instagram. You looked lovely. And so did Mom."

"What about me?" Jerry groused.

"You looked gorgeous, Jer, with those chopsticks up your nose. I'm waiting for your deportation papers to arrive."

"They're not going to deport me. The Chinese officials think I'm funny."

"Yeah, I bet they do. So I'm not hearing Peter, Rowan or Felicia in the car with you. Are they travelling separately?"

"Pete's meeting his dad. Rowan and Felicia are in another car. Rowan wanted to take an old man nap," Jerry explained.

"I think it's jetlag," Olivia said mildly.

Fitz rumbled another sigh. "Cyrus just walked in with a bunch of files and smoke coming out of his ears. Call me when you get back from dinner. Oh, Liv…"

"Yes, Fitz?"

"I'm so proud of you."

* * *

><p>Chinese News Agency update…<p>

"…_US First Lady Olivia Grant was honoured with a surprise greeting from the Chinese President today. Mrs Grant was met by the President and Chinese First Lady when she arrived with her children and parents at the Diaoyutai Guest Houses. _

"_The Chinese President said he was glad to see the US First Family looking so well after the recent political turmoil at home. He said he was relieved to know stability and the rule of law had returned to one of China's most important political and trading partners. _

"_On a personal note, the President stressed that he cherished the warm personal and professional relationship that was emerging with the US President. He added that he was keen to help foster better understanding between the two countries, now that the United States finally had a President who was non-aligned with the ideologies of the two main parties…." _

* * *

><p>"Where's the chicken feet?" Jerry whispered loudly. "Pete said there'd be chicken feet."<p>

"There are no chicken feet," Rowan said with a wide smile at Jerry's neighbour, an elderly Chinese officially who was looking on in concern.

"Pete said they eat snake. Is that snake in that dish over there?"

"No, that's pork."

"Is that fish alive? Pete said they'd bring live fish to the table, that they'd be twitching on the plate. I think that fish winked at me."

"That fish is dead," said the silver-haired man next to Jerry. "It's been deep fried."

Rowan leaned across, and spoke to the man in Mandarin, making him laugh heartily.

"What did you say about me?" Jerry frowned.

"I apologised for your rudeness and said that this is what happens when kids are given an Ipad instead of a belting."

"You gave Mom a belting?" Jerry glared at Rowan.

"No, I didn't give Olivia the belting. She was far too well behaved."

"Did you threaten to send her to her real parents if she misbehaved?"

Before Rowan could respond, Karen yelled "Mom!"

Jerry jumped to his feet, toppling his chair in his rush to get to Olivia's table, with Rowan following close behind.

But Felicia got there first. She bent over Olivia who was hunched over the table, her hands pressed to her mouth. Felicia placed a napkin over her mouth as Olivia made audible retching sounds.

Then the Secret Service rushed forward and took charge of the situation.

* * *

><p>Breaking News, foreign press agencies…<p>

"…_US First Lady vomits on her Chinese hosts. _

_"In one of the most embarrassing moments in diplomacy, US First Lady Olivia Grant puked up her entree at her first meal with the Chinese President and First Lady . Even the normally tight-lipped Chinese officials weren't in a mood to hide the incredible insult to their leaders when Grant gasped 'it's the fish' after the incident, referring to the fried whole Grouper that is a popular dish in China and a favourite of the President…"_

* * *

><p>"Olivia is pregnant!" Fitz roared at Cyrus.<p>

"You are not a husband right now!" Cyrus roared back. "You are the President of the United States! You cannot go to China without going to Japan, South Korea and the Philippines _first_!"

"Livvie isn't in any one of those countries!"

"But our military bases are!" Cyrus yelled, then paused to take a deep breath. "Our allies need reassurance that the mess Sally left us in, and your changed political allegiance, aren't going to change any trade or diplomatic initiatives. That is why Olivia was sent on her little 'cultural and educational tour' to China, so you could make your little trip to our allies in South East Asia without offending anyone."

Fitz collapsed into a couch, dropping his head into his hands. "Livvie is pregnant."

"The timing is bad. I know, but you cannot go to China ahead of all those other countries in the region."

"My wife is pregnant."

Cyrus threw up his hands, rolled his eyes and sat down next to Fitz. "They'll think you sent your pregnant wife to China so you could visit that country first and elevate its status in the region on the sly. We don't want anyone thinking we're in cahoots with the Chinese. Especially the Chinese."

Cyrus paused as Fitz slapped his chest then grabbed his phone from inside his jacket pocket.

"Hi," Fitz said in a soft husky voice that made Cyrus turn away.

"Right, I'll leave you to it." Cyrus got to his feet and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Barely noticing his absence, Fitz focused on the weepy, broken sigh he heard from the other side of the world.

"I didn't want you to find out like this. I didn't want to find out like this either," Olivia sniffed.

"I know, my darling. But we needed a quick response before the Chinese public organised a mob revolt against you."

There was another broken sigh.

"How are you feeling?" Fitz asked softly.

"Like I'm pregnant."

He gave a crooked smile, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

"Fitz…"

"…Yes?" he croaked.

"How are _you_ feeling?"

He gave a gasp between a sob and a laugh. "I love you. I want to hold you. I want to wrap you in cotton wool. I want to give you chicken soup."

Her soft snuffle of laughter widened the smile on his lips. "Then you'll be happy to know that I've been lying on my stately bed, being fed a lot of nourishing soups, not allowed to move a muscle. I had to fake tiredness to get everyone to leave the room and stop hovering around me."

"You should rest."

"I'm resting."

"You should sleep."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Stubborn."

"Bossy."

Fitz chuckled.

Olivia smiled. "Will you call me first thing in the morning?"

"First thing."

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, news update on China Central Television (CCTV)<p>

"…_Honoured guest, US First Lady Olivia Grant learned very important personal news in the most unexpected way tonight. Mrs Grant was attending a private dinner with Chinese and US officials, when her stomach proved too sensitive to a traditional spicy fish dish. Mrs Grant believed she was suffering from a stomach virus, but government doctors soon assured her otherwise. The US Embassy in Beijing later released an official statement saying Mrs Grant had an adverse reaction to the fish due to her delicate circumstances. We can reveal that Mrs Grant is expecting her first child with husband US President Fitzgerald Grant. We here at China Central Television send Mrs Grant our best wishes on her impending motherhood_…"

* * *

><p>"You were awake," Fitz smiled when Olivia answered on the first ring.<p>

"I was waiting for you."

"Are you sure you want to finish your speaking engagements in China?"

"I think I should. People have been so kind, and so proud that we made the announcement in China. I don't think they'll mind so much when you fly to see our ASEAN allies without stopping here. We've already shared something far more precious than diplomacy with the Chinese people."

"I'm going to cancel my ASEAN trip – my wife's pregnant and I've got an election."

"Fitz, both the election and baby will be arriving around about the same time. You can't stay stuck in the White House until then."

"Don't try to reason with me. I'm allowed to have irrational moments too. I'm a pregnant father."

Olivia laughed.

He stayed silent, listening to her.

After a long moment of pause, she said softly, "Karen usually sneaks in with her purple dragon when she thinks I'm asleep, to cuddle up next to me. She didn't do that last night."

"Maybe she didn't want to disturb you."

"Maybe."

"Want me to talk to her?" Then he paused as Lauren knocked on the door. "Just a sec, Lauren. I'll be right out." He waited a beat, before muttering, "I've got a meeting with the intelligence chiefs, the Cabinet and Justices from the Supreme Court. It's going to be a long night."

"I should let you go."

They waited another second, then Fitz asked softly, "How did Jerry take the news?"

Olivia chuckled. "He's making a list of names for the newest little dude."

"What makes him think it's going to be a boy?"

Olivia laughed again, then sighed when Fitz had to call out to Lauren again. "You should go, Fitz."

"Livvie…"

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Olivia placed the phone on the night-table, then looked up hearing a light knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in."

Rowan walked in carrying a tray.

"Dad, I really don't want any more soup."

"This is date and ginger tea from the floor manager. She said it's good for replenishing your Qi."

Olivia sighed but took the cup, sipping it slowly. Then less cautiously when she felt it settle the queasiness in her stomach.

"You spoke to Fitz?" Rowan sat on the edge of the bed. "How is he?"

"Emotional. He's going to be a father."

"For the fourth time," Rowan said, drily.

Olivia didn't respond, as she took another sip. "And you're going to be a grandfather."

"Yes," Rowan said softly. "My first grandchild." He stood abruptly and walked towards the window.

Olivia watched her father standing stiff and straight, silhouetted against the grey sky, as she quickly finished her tea.

Then she carefully got out of bed, testing her nausea level while standing. Realising she was okay, she turned to Rowan and asked, "Have you seen Karen?"

"She's with Felicia, getting ready for your tour of the robotics centre."

"Will you be okay spending the whole day with Jerry, visiting Pete and his dad?"

"I'm looking forward to it. I've always wanted to see the Terracotta Warriors."

Just then there was another knock on the door, and Olivia's chief of staff called out, "Ma'am. We need to get ready. The Chinese First Lady is on her way. And, uh, there's been a change of plans."

* * *

><p>Special panel discussion on a news show in the US…<p>

"…_The Chinese have fallen in love with our First Lady. Olivia Pope-Grant had already impressed them with her sense of style, her subtle diplomacy and her fluent Mandarin, but now it seems a billion Chinese are intent on one thing – making sure Olivia is safe, healthy and happy in the first few weeks of her pregnancy."_

"_The Chinese news agencies say their First Lady has taken on the role of chaperone, guardian and care-taker."_

"_Looks like everyone over there is really keen to make sure Olivia Grant stays healthy and safe. She had to change her plans to visit a Robotics Centre because of a public internet campaign advising her against the visit. People were concerned about her exposure to radiation from all the computers."_

"_I read somewhere that pregnant mothers in China don't use cell phones during their pregnancy and wear radiation jackets if they have to be near a computer. Seems a bit over the top."_

"_Well, most parents in China are only allowed to have one child; explains why they're extra protective…"_

"_But it looks like the change of plans worked out well. Here's Karen Grant with a big smile on her face, in blue scrubs, cuddling a baby panda at the Chengdu Panda Research Centre. I wouldn't be surprised if she tries to smuggle one of those babies home_…"

"_Wonder how all the dogs will take to having a bear in the White House..."_

* * *

><p>"She is not heavy?" The Chinese First Lady asked with a smile, glancing over at Karen asleep on Olivia's lap.<p>

"No, she's fine." Olivia murmured, smoothing a hand over Karen's hair. "She's tired after her day out with the Pandas."

"You will get her a baby Panda as she asked?"

Olivia laughed. "No. Karen already has a dog. I don't think Poppy will be too happy to share my daughter with a baby Panda who will become a Giant Panda."

Olivia paused, feeling Karen still against her. Then she continued softly, still stroking a hand over Karen's hair, "And I'm going to need my daughter's help getting ready for another baby Grant. So she won't have time for Panda bears."

As Karen relaxed and cuddled closer, Olivia exchanged a smile with the Chinese First Lady who added softly, "You are okay to talk to the students at the Chengdu School? Not too tired?"

Olivia assured her that she wasn't.

But when they stepped out of the car, instead of a contingent of smiling, waving students they were met with a group of grim-faced Chinese officials.

Olivia glanced across at her hostess. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

* * *

><p>Breaking News Associated Press and Reuters…<p>

"… _US First Lady's school visit was marred by pictures of striking factory workers, posted on son, Jerry Fitzgerald's Instagram. We have reports that Chinese authorities wanted to cancel Mrs Grant's school speaking engagement, but she refused to 'disappoint the children'. A US official later said that no one wanted to 'upset the pregnant lady'._

"_As scheduled, Grant spoke to the students about working hard at school and university. She responded to questions about running her own business; what it's like living in the White House, and whether she was lonely as an only child._

" _After a photo session with the kids, Grant was encouraged to cut short her visit by the Chinese First Lady, for her wellbeing. But sources say US Embassy officials are keen for Grant to sort out another diplomatic disaster on only Day Two of Grant's cultural tour_…"

* * *

><p>"You were supposed to see the Terracotta Warriors. What happened?" Olivia faced a crestfallen Jerry and impassive Rowan in a private meeting room at the US Embassy in Beijing.<p>

"Should you be doing this?" Jerry muttered. "You're pregnant."

"Yes, pregnant, not ill. Now tell me what happened."

"I saw a bunch of people protesting and I took pictures."

"And put the pictures on Instagram saying the Chinese asshole government wasn't paying its workers."

Jerry nodded. "Are you mad at me?"

"Yes, Jerry! I'm mad at you! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"Mom, you should have heard what those workers had to say! They've got one toilet between 100 people! They only get one day off a month! They sleep on the factory floor! They get paid in cents, not even a whole dollar a day! And there were people there who have cancer, because of the stuff they use to make my phone!"

Olivia held up a hand, then turned to her father. "And you made Mr Leong stop the car so Jerry could speak to the workers?"

"Yes." Rowan nodded.

"Jerry, can you leave us for a moment. I need to speak to my dad."

"Sure, Mom." Jerry shot to his feet and left the room in a couple of strides.

As soon as the door closed, Olivia glared at Rowan. "You were supposed to keep him out of trouble!"

"Olivia, the world doesn't revolve around Fitz."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Your concern right now is about the fallout for your husband's image. You're going to fix this so we don't embarrass the Grant administration."

"Yes, because we here representing his administration!"

"Olivia, I am the descendent of slaves, as are you. Do you think it is right that we stand by, while exploitation takes place in front of our eyes, right here, right now?"

"Dad…"

"Olivia, listen to me. Do you even know why they're protesting? These workers, who barely earn a subsistence wage, have been cheated out of their employee insurance schemes. That means they will have no homes to go to when they quit working and are forced to leave company housing. It means they have no health insurance to pay medical bills when they get sick-"

"Dad, I can't fix a labour crisis in China!"

"This is not just a labour crisis in China, Olivia. There is a US connection. The workers on strike make retail products for some of the biggest brands in the US and they get paid less than the Chinese minimum wage. It's not right. You need to use your influence to fix that."

Olivia looked at her father, then strode over to the door and pulled it open, prompting Jerry to stagger in.

"Were you listening at the door?" Olivia demanded.

Jerry blushed, straightening up. "Are you still mad at me?"

"No," Olivia muttered, then gasped when Jerry crushed her in a hug of relief.

"Do I get a hug?" Rowan asked drily.

"No," Jerry muttered, hugging Olivia some more.

* * *

><p>Breaking News from foreign press sources in China…<p>

"…_In what many consider a genius move, the two First Ladies of China and United States spoke to the media today about working conditions in both countries that are a concern for them, as announcement effectively diffused a political crisis prompted by criticism of the Chinese Government from the US President's teenaged son.  
><em>

"_US First Lady Olivia Grant apologised for her son Jerry's impetuous move in accusing the Chinese Government for the problems experienced by Chinese workers. A reference to tens of thousands of striking factory workers who say they have been cheated out their worker entitlements. _

"_But Mrs Grant added that she couldn't fault her son for his compassion and activism._

'It's what we teach our kids – to be good neighbours; to be our brothers' and our sisters' keepers; to watch out for each other. That's what Jerry was doing. He has always been a protector; someone who fights for justice and I'm proud of that.

"But he was wrong to blame the Chinese government. A lot of factories here make products for US retailers. And we need to make sure that cost-cutting to the detriment of an employee's livelihood, health or safety isn't occurring when we encourage foreign investment and better trade relations between our two countries.

"After finding out why the workers were protesting, I asked myself as a mother – would I want my children to work in these conditions? My answer was no. And since that is the case, I cannot stand by and let someone else's child be subjected to conditions that I would never accept for my own children.

"So as mothers, we believe it's time we worked together to help other mothers with a less public platform improve working conditions for all our children."

"_Mrs Grant's words were echoed by her Chinese counterpart, who added that a bilateral working group would be formed with women from business, politics and labour organisations in China and the United States…"_

Fitz muted the television as Cyrus burst into the room.

"Olivia is talking politics and trade!"

Fitz linked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "She's talking as a mother about politics and trade. Giving a mother's perspective and talking about banding together with other women to fix a problem that speaks to workers on two continents. It's a brilliant strategy. Wall Street will be lulled into a false sense of calm that this is going to be one of Liv's little hobbies. But they don't know her like I do."

"So you approve?"

"Yes, Cy, because my wife keeps hitting it out of the ball park and best of all, she's decided to cut short her trip to avoid any more surprise Instagrams."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Dear beleaguered readers, who are thoroughly fed up with my lax updates – (imagine me with a sheepish grin) – I have realised I need to keep my Tumblring on a strict diet (like my chocolate addiction). Unfortunately there maybe frequent lapses - just like my chocolate habits.**

**BTW - YOU GUYS ARE GOOD -you guessed Liv was pregnant from the get-go! :) I loved it! **

**Oh and why Cyrus is mad is because he's jealous, but I need to flesh that out a bit more in the next couple of chapters. **

**So about this chapter, I've referenced some real life happenings:**

**US President George Bush senior did vomit on the Japanese Prime Minister on a state visit to Japan. He blamed a flu virus.**

**There really are about 10,000-30,000 (maybe more) Chinese workers striking RIGHT NOW for their employee benefits. These are factory employees who makes shoes for US brands including Adidas and Nike.**

**Again I filched a lot of stuff from Michelle Obama's trip to China**

**And I found articles about Chinese pregnancy customs on the Internet. Not sure how true they are, so I apologise for perpetuating falsehoods in my ignorance – please let me know of any mistakes**


	32. Homecoming

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. WHY THOUGH? THEY'VE TURNED THIS GEM OF A SHOW INTO SHIT! Idiots and megalomaniacs incorporated.**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Breaking News<p>

"…_He is waiting patiently with baby, balloons and flowers like a typical dad, waiting in arrivals for his wife and kids, returning from vacation. Only the guy here is President Grant, and the airport is Andrews Air Force Base and the only guests on board this Presidential aircraft are the First Family returning from a pretty eventful tour of China…"_

"…_Aww, isn't that sweet, the door opens and out rush the kids. Daughter Karen first, running down the stairs to hurl herself into her Daddy's outstretched ar, closely followed by Jerry, who pauses briefly to give a cheeky wave to the media. Then the First Lady exits, watched by her parents as she carefully makes her way down the steps. Understandable as our First Lady is due to be a First Mom…"_

"…_We've got some happy snaps of the First Family's reunion after a week-long overseas vacation. There were a lot of hugs, some tears and plenty of kisses as Dad and baby greeted Mom and the kids, returning from China. The First Family posed for the media before they were bundled into Marine One and flown home to the White House. And this is the picture that's gone viral – here we have America's Baby Teddy Grant staring at Dad giving Step-Mom a great big smoocher. Next we have Teddy trying to make a threesome of it. Gotta love the Grant kids…"_

* * *

><p>She smiled waking to the feel of is hands gently circling her stomach. She gave a throaty chuckle as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmuring, "We're pregnant."<p>

"You keep saying that as if you can't believe it's real." She stroked his arm.

"I can't," he said simply, kissing her again. "You're having my baby." He placed a soft kiss on her neck. "The love of my life." He kissed her earlobe. "Having my first child."

"Fitz, you are the father of four kids."

Fitz drew back as she shifted around in his arms to face him.

"Livvie…?"

"Karen is sensitive about this new baby."

The confused look on his face cleared, and his face grew sombre. "She's my little girl, Liv. Nothing's going to change that."

"Sometimes kids need reassurance…" Olivia paused, placing a hand on his chest, stroking through the soft curling hair. "I've been thinking… "

He watched her face, waiting.

"I've been thinking that maybe I should adopt them. All of them - before this baby arrives. We can call it a family re-commitment ceremony - make it a little celebration - in Vermont. What do you think?" She finished in a rush.

He stared at her for a long, long moment. Then he cupped her face and kissed her.

"So you like the idea?" she mumbled against his lips.

He smiled, kissing her again, muffling her laughter with his mouth.

* * *

><p>Fitz returned to the Oval Office after his unscheduled break, firmly ordering Olivia to stay in bed. Instead she showered, dressed and went in search of Karen.<p>

"Hey, Baby K," Olivia tapped on Karen's half-open bedroom door.

Karen looked up from her tablet. She sitting crossed-legged on the floor, while Poppy snoozing by her side.

"Busy?"

Karen shook her head.

"Want to help me give out the gifts we got in China?" Olivia added, smiling when Karen scrambled to her feet and raced up to take her outstretched hand. Poppy stretched, yawned, then ambled after them.

"Jerry's put more pictures on Instagram."

"Anything to get us in trouble?"

Karen giggled. "He says these ones are approved by the Chinese Government."

Olivia shook her head, laughing.

"Dad's real happy about the baby, isn't he?"

Olivia stopped, causing Karen to bump into her. Steading the little girl in a gentle hug, Olivia said softly, "What about you? Are you happy to have a new brother or sister, Baby K?"

Karen nodded silently, her chin resting on Olivia's stomach.

Olivia stroked the hair back from Karen's face. "I've had an idea but I don't know how you'd feel about it."

"About what?"

"I'd like to be your Mom. Your official Mom. On paper. Legal in a court of law. Would you… how would you feel if I adopted you? Would you be okay with that?"

"Only me?" Karen drew back.

Olivia smiled. "No, all of you – Jerry, Teddy and you."

"And Dad, does he want to adopt me and Teddy too?"

Olivia stared down at Karen. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

Karen came back to rest her cheek against Olivia."I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

After a while, she kissed Olivia's stomach and whispered, "Hello, baby, now I get to be your real sister."

* * *

><p>Their first stop was in the East Wing. When they entered James' office, he sprang to his feet, coming towards them with open arms. "Ah, my two favourite high-flyers! But I must say, you both look great for people who've travelled for hours, half way across the world."<p>

"We slept on the plane. Then Mom had a nap with Dad after we got back," Karen said.

Olivia blushed, averting her gaze from James, as Karen went over to the play yard where Ella was stacking building blocks.

"Can I hold Ella?"

"Of course, you can." James smiled, then leaned towards Olivia and murmured, "So Big Sis is okay about the potential addition?"

"I think so." Olivia watched Karen step into the enclosure. Then she turned and gave James another hug. "That's for helping me get our side of the story out about China, before any real damage was done."

James chuckled. "Olivia, I have to say doing Public Relations for you is not the hardship I anticipated it would be for my journalistic soul. I'm enjoying it. I've even taken a page out of the Too-Much-Grant Party's social media strategy. We now have a group of influential bloggers who'll spread the word in such numbers that mainstream media cannot ignore what's going on. Oh and the feedback has been great for your working group idea, we've got meetings scheduled—"

He paused as a storm the size of Cyrus barrelled into the room, only to stop abruptly at the sight of Olivia.

"Olivia," Cyrus said. After a pause, he twitched a smile and added, "It's nice to have you back."

Olivia laughed, reaching out to give him a hug. "Thank you, Cy. It's nice to be back."

"I didn't think you'd be at work so soon," Cyrus patted her shoulder.

"We're handing out gifts," said Karen, looking up from her seat on the floor with Ella in her lap. "Mom got you a book, _The Art of War_. It's in Chinese and English. Peter said he could help you read the Chinese part."

"That should come in handy," Cyrus muttered, shifting his gaze from Karen to Olivia. "Because we need to discuss your schedule."

Olivia looked nonplussed. "Have you taken over scheduling from my staff?"

"No,_ I_ haven't_ taken over_ scheduling from _your_ staff! _I_ am trying to sort through the _mess_ that the mavericks you've hired…," Cyrus paused to glare at James, "…are making of our well-ordered lives! This so-called Working Group on Labour Equity is interfering with your official schedule! And before you ask _what_ official schedule – it's _this_ official schedule!" Cyrus thrust his folder into Olivia's hands.

Olivia flipped it open. "You want me to open a library, do a series of talks about maintaining the Rose Garden through the seasons for a PBS Special, and attend a luncheon with the General Society of Mayflower Descendants?"

"Well, it was originally meant to be the NRA women's luncheon, but considering where you and Fitz stand on guns, I figured the Mayflower group would be a better fit."

"Cyrus, is this Mellie's schedule?"

"It's the First Lady's schedule for the current year. And you are the First Lady."

"So this is Mellie's schedule!" Olivia snapped the folder shut. "You've recycled her appointments with a few minor adjustments!"

"Olivia, as First Lady, you have to maintain the traditions of the job – reading, taking a stroll through the garden and having a nice lunch with the ladies. I'm only thinking of you and your need to relax and stay calm for the baby."

Olivia glared at him. "Fine."

"Fine?" He stared at her. "You're okay with this?"

"I'm okay with this."

"Right. Then I'll go and confirm a return to your original schedule. And get rid of this Labour Equity nonsense."

Olivia turned from staring after his departing back, to see James and Karen watching her solemnly.

"You're not going to let him get away with this are you?" James asked wryly.

"No," said Karen and Olivia together. Then they glanced at each other and giggled.

* * *

><p>White House Press Release<p>

'… _The Office of the First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant has confirmed that former First Lady Laura Bush will open DC's newest digital library. Also attending will be Authors for Libraries advocate, Judy Blume, famous for works like 'Are you there God, it's me Margaret' and 'Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing'…_

'… _A day with the First Daughters, then and now. The Nixon daughters Julie Nixon Eisenhower and Tricia Nixon Cox will take a stroll down memory lane in a Public Broadcasting Corporation (PBS) special on the Rose Garden through the seasons. They will be joined by Karen Grant in re-telling first-person accounts of historic White House weddings …_

'…_Representatives from the United American Indians of New England(UAINE) will attend a luncheon hosted by the General Society of Mayflower Descendants. Both associations say they welcome the opportunity to open dialogue and build understanding between the two organisations. Also attending will be activist Felicia Adams, step-mother of First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant…"_

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>insane<em>?!" Cyrus almost spat at Olivia as he leaned over her desk in the East Wing. "You are sending UAINE reps to lunch with the Mayfair biddies and Felicia? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that there needs to be a national conversation about Native American rights. And the Mayflower Descendants want to help. They've received more requests for media invites, since my press release went out. Both sides welcome the extra publicity to say their piece. And Felicia knows how to take pretty pictures."

Cyrus glowered at her. "Olivia—"

"Cyrus, there's a new First Lady in the East Wing. I would like that message to be heard loud and clear in the West Wing."

"Your job is ceremonial! You have to follow protocol!"

"My job is whatever I want it to be! I'm the black, second wife of an Independent President! Tell me which of those things fits in with standard protocol!"

Cyrus sat down. Then he took a deep breath and said evenly, "You shouldn't yell. It's not good for the baby."

Olivia sat back in her chair. "Cyrus, the only thing that's going to be good for the baby is if we call a truce."

"We're not at war."

"Yes, we are. Over Fitz."

Cyrus looked away. "This was my time with Fitz. My turn to be indispensable; for him to trust me again. Instead he has you! He barely acknowledges me when you're in the room! I could be a statue or wallpaper! Oh, but wallpaper would be more functional!"

Olivia gave him a considering look. "All right. I think I know how we're going to fix this. We're going to divide and conquer Fitz's schedule."

"What?"

"We're going to get Fitz to split his schedule between us, so you get to attend some meetings, and I get to attend others. That way both of us will be helping Fitz, without sabotaging his administration in the process."

"How are we going to do that?"

"We'll get Fitz's schedule from Lauren."

Minutes later, they stood in front of Lauren's desk. "We need Fitz's itinerary."

"The one he wants me to give you?" she asked Cyrus. "Or the one he wants me to give you?" Lauren turned to Olivia.

"He has a separate schedule for each of us?" Olivia asked, surprised.

"Now do you think I'm paranoid?" demanded Cyrus.

"Paranoid about what?"

They all turned to see Fitz standing by the door.

"You're in a meeting with the Treasury Secretary," Cyrus muttered.

"I was. Now I'm not. Paranoid about what?"

"The different schedules you have for your wife and your chief of staff," supplied Lauren. "Shall I book in some time now for you talk about this, sir?"

"Yes," said Olivia and Cyrus together.

Giving a smirk, Fitz reached for Olivia's hand as he led the way into the Oval Office.

* * *

><p>"So you want to share me between the two of you?" Fitz murmured, staring at Olivia's mouth.<p>

"We're not talking about a threesome! We're talking about your Presidential duties!" snapped Cyrus, from the opposite couch.

"Cy feels that I'm pushing my way into his position as your Chief of Staff." Olivia ghosted a smile as Fitz continued to stare at her mouth.

"And here we have the _other_ problem!" Cyrus burst out, "Every time I want to have a serious conversation, I have to deal with you both looking like you want to pounce on each other!"

Both Fitz and Olivia turned to stare at Cyrus. Then Fitz leaned his head against Olivia's and muttered, "Do you know what Cy's talking about, Liv?"

"Not a clue."

Cyrus gave a gusty sigh and started to get to his feet, but Olivia stopped him.

"Cy, wait! Okay, we'll stop teasing and get serious. Fitz, you need to divide your official schedule between the two of us, if and when you want either of us to attend a meeting."

Cyrus sat back down. "And I don't want to be left with the crap while Liv gets the VIP agenda." He glared, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Done. I'll get Lauren to send both of you my agenda, with your names against scheduled events. You will have a window of 24 hours to make an issue of any perceived unfairness. Otherwise, the schedule stays as is, okay?"

"Okay." Olivia nodded, looking at Cy.

Cyrus looked from one to the other, then sighed. "Okay."

"Good. Meeting over. Now, if you'll excuse us, Cy. I'd like to pounce on my wife."

Cyrus rolled his eyes and left the room.

"You are incorrigible," Olivia giggled as Fitz stretched out on the couch and brought her to lie on top of him.

His hands shaped her body closer to him. "You don't want to spend all your time with me. I'm crushed." He pouted.

"I do… " She kissed his pout, then peppered kisses on his sneaky smile. "But… I've got…First Lady…stuff to do too."

He chuckled, sliding a hand down her back and over her hips. "I heard all about your First Lady stuff. Nice move, getting the families of ex-Republican Presidents involved, but could we get some Democrats in after your next spat with Cy. I'm trying to push the non-partisan agenda."

She feathered a string of kisses along his jaw. "I know… but as part of my first official schedule… I wanted to let the Republicans who voted for you know … that you haven't turned your back on the traditions that got you here."

He groaned. "I'm very turned on by what you just said…"

"What did I say…?" She drew back to look at him, smiling.

"Something about tradition?" he grinned, capturing her laughter in another kiss.

After one kiss had turned into several more, she broke away, reaching up to brush her lipstick off his mouth. "I should go. It's almost time for your next meeting."

"Not for another couple of minutes." Fitz held onto her, adding after a pause. "I spoke to Karen after lunch."

"And...?"

"She was worried that Mellie's parents could take her away because she is their biological grand-daughter. One of her friends at school had told her they could do that."

Olivia gave a soft groan. "Why didn't Baby K say something?"

Fitz feathered a kiss on her brow. "You were right. She needed reassurance that we wanted her to stay. So I've decided that we should all take part in the re-commitment ceremony"

"_You've_ decided?"

"Yeah, using _my_ Presidential Superpowers..."

"Fitz!"

"...of Deduction," he grinned as she poked his side. "I've decided my wife is a genius and even I should take part in a wholesale Grant re-commitment ceremony."

"Nice save."

"I've told my attorneys to start the paperwork on confidential adoptions, even though Jerry and Karen know who their real parents are. The firm is going to look into Safe Haven legislation to make that happen."

Olivia kissed his chin.

"Hey, my Presidential Superpowers deserve better."

"Your Presidential Superpowers will have to wait because Lauren's at the door." Olivia sat up, pulling Fitz up after her.

"Livvie..?" Fitz said softly, watching her face as she smoothed his hair back to respectability.

"Yes, baby?"

"I'm glad you're home."

That got him one more kiss before Olivia made her way to the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, how are yous all? Thank you so much, dear lovely readers, for your wonderful reviews. You guys are very kind, and may I say again – how glad I am that I broke into 'Fiction World' through Scandal fanfiction because it has the best fandom, even though the show itself is shit!**

**So I've dragged myself away from Tumblr – as recommended, although the addiction is understood (!) – by some reviewers, to complete another chapter dealing with the question that you guys figured out – Cy's jealousy over Liv's status which is leaving him out in the cold.**

**And I think I've been neglecting Karen at the expense of Jerry, so had to bring her in because I do like her too.  
><strong>

**Now for my usual rip-offs from Real Life:**

**- Former First Lady Laura Bush has a foundation for libraries and there are a whole lot of authors supporting libraries but Judy Blume is the only one I found that I'd actually heard of. If you have a favourite children's author that you'd like to share, please do.**

**- Again I mixed real life characters - the Nixon sisters - with my fictional Karen Grant.**

**- Revisited Chapter 28 (_A Presidential Divorce_) where I first mentioned that Felicia had spent Thanksgiving protesting with the United American Indians of New England. I thought I'd bring them back for this chapter**

**I used my artistic licence with Safe Haven laws. Apparently closed or confidential adoptions are not available to older children who know their biological parents. And Closed Adoptions are 'not the norm in modern history' but Safe Haven Laws are used to revive this practice (as per my rushed reading through Wikipedia, which I may or may not have misunderstood). **

**And I read this article in the New York Times written in 2008 about Nebraska changing its Safe Haven Laws (which allow parents to abandon babies at hospitals, churches, etc without fear of prosecution) to include older children, after kids as old 17 years were 'abandoned' by their parents.**

**In this story, I thought confidentiality might be handy to protect the kids from unwanted publicity because Fitz is President.**


	33. Arrivals and Departures

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"So this gig is permanent, huh?" Harrison asked, sitting next to a giant stuffed bear on the couch in Olivia's East Wing office. The bear was his gift to the impending 'bub' but Olivia had a gut feeling there was more to Harrison's visit than he'd let on.<p>

"This gig?" She glanced around the spacious light-filled room, decorated professionally in a 'neo-traditional' American style with a few personal touches that included her favourite orchids, as well as pictures of Fitz, the kids, her parents and OPA. "Yes, I guess it is."

Harrison shifted, elbowing the bear out of the way. "It ain't the same without you at OPA."

"And?"

Harrison stopped fidgeting to give her a smirk. "It's no good trying to hide anything from you, Liv, so I'm not gonna to try." He sat forward. "I've got an offer to set up my own division in New York. Doing what you do, Liv, but on my terms."

"Do the others know you're leaving?"

Harrison shook his head. "It's not a done deal yet. I wanted to run this by you first. But…" He looked away, then turned back to Olivia. "I need this, Liv. All I do now is break up kiddie fights like I'm the nanny. I babysit clients, take care of the paperwork and talk Abby down from shooting random strangers. It's not working for me anymore, Liv. I need out."

"What about your history?"

"They know about my history. It's a civil rights firm run by a group of brothers who know how the system works against us."

"So their work fits in with your lifestyle?"

"Yeah, these guys are ambitious and they understand the colour of money. The firm is small but they're already making a name for themselves and they understand my need for independence. They'll refer clients my way but I have final say on who I'll take on."

"It sounds too good to pass up."

"Too good to be true, you mean. I hear you, Liv, that's why I'm putting everything down in writing so my ass is covered." Harrison paused, "So you're okay with this?"

Olivia released a long breath. "Harrison, you're the brother I never had. You've taken on a lot since Stephen left and even more since I married Fitz. I get why you need to move on but I'll make inquiries, see how legit these guys are."

"They're legit," Harrison smiled. "You have to cut the apron strings some time, sis."

Olivia chuckled. "Yeah, you're right."

"There's one more thing. I'm thinking of taking Huck with me. He's got the kind of skills I could use..."

* * *

><p>Shortly after Harrison left, Huck arrived with a case of the 'finest' grape juice he could find.<p>

"It's like wine without the alcohol, so it's good for the baby." Huck said grimly, placing the box against the wall behind Olivia's desk.

"Thank you, Huck."

Huck straightened and faced Olivia. "Harrison is leaving OPA."

"He told you?"

"No, I followed him to a law firm in New York. It's a minority firm. You don't have to worry. They're legit. I checked them out. They're got clients who pay their bills on time."

Olivia narrowed her gaze. "How did you know I wanted them checked out?"

"I heard you."

Still with a narrowed gaze, Olivia turned from Huck to the bear, then back again.

"Yeah, I put a bug in that bear," he confirmed.

"Huck!" Olivia grabbed the bear and thrust it at Huck. "Take it out!"

Huck took the letter opener from Olivia's desk and poked out one of the bear's eyes, revealing the bug concealed behind it.

"And you better fix that before you give it back," Olivia glared at him. "With an eye that's not spying on me!"

"Okay," Huck said meekly.

Watching him, Olivia folded her arms across her chest and ventured, "Since you heard the whole conversation, do you want to go to New York with Harrison?"

"No. It's too far."

"Too far from what?"

"You and the baby."

That smoothed the irritation from Olivia's face and she smiled at Huck holding a one-eyed bear and the bug he'd planted.

"I'm glad. I don't think I could lose both of you in one day."

* * *

><p>Shortly after Huck had left taking the bear with him to complete major eye surgery, Abby arrived with a box of cupcakes for Olivia and her staff.<p>

"You'll be popular around here," Olivia grinned, looking at the spread.

"Good. I'll need a new gig after Harrison leaves. The thought of being stuck with Lindsay all day is giving me a headache."

"Oh! That's so unfair! I'm not half as annoying as she makes out to be!" Quinn said from the doorway, walking in with a huge basket of flowers.

"They let you go so soon?" Abby frowned as Quinn placed her basket on a nearby table.

Quinn turned to Olivia, "She told Security I was carrying a concealed weapon."

"Abby!" Olivia scolded but the other woman just shrugged.

"There was no harm done. She's here isn't she?"

"Only because Tom turned up and sorted it out!" Quinn snapped.

"Yay for Tom." Abby rolled her eyes. "He could have at least pulled that basket apart and given me a bit more time to talk to Olivia alone."

"Getting ready to jump ship now that Harrison is bailing on us?"

"Were you all listening to Huck's bug?" Olivia frowned.

Quinn and Abby exchanged a look of confusion, then Quinn said, "I don't know about any bug. I hacked into Harrison's email."

"It wasn't rocket science," Abby sniffed. "Harrison keeps his book of passwords in the bottom drawer of his desk."

"Abigail has the key to that drawer."

Olivia sat down abruptly, holding her stomach which prompted both Abby and Quinn to rush towards her.

"Olivia, are you all right?"

"Is it the baby?"

"Do you feel nauseous?"

At Quinn's question, Abby grabbed the wastebasket and shoved it under Olivia's nose, before turning her head and shutting her eyes. After a long pause, Abby opened an eye to see both Olivia and Quinn staring at her.

"What?" Abby put the basket on the desk. "I thought Liv was going to puke. And I hate puke."

"I'm not going to puke," Olivia said firmly, placing the waste basket back on the floor. "I need to know if the two of you can run the firm without Harrison and without breaking the law?"

Quinn looked horrified. "We can't let Abby loose on potential clients! She'll pull a gun on them!"

"Unlike Lindsay who'll accept anyone as a client, even a kid looking for a missing cat."

"I found the cat!"

Olivia sighed and reached for the waste basket, just as Rowan walked in carrying tea cup on a tray.

He paused, "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Abby said, grabbing Quinn's elbow. "We were just about to leave so Olivia can puke in peace. It was nice seeing you again, Mr Pope. Talk later, Liv."

"What was that about?" Rowan asked as the door shut on the hastily departing women.

"You don't want to know," said Olivia. "Even I don't want to know." She placed the basket back on the ground. "I'm glad you're here with the tea. I could really use it right now."

Rowan handed the teacup over. "Tough day?"

Olivia sighed, taking a sip. "I have to find a way to get my team into the White House as pre-emptive damage control."

"If you're going to use your power and influence to create positions for your associates, you should consider doing the same for Felicia."

Olivia paused in mid-sip and looked at her father. "Felicia?"

"Olivia, she is your step-mother, she needs something to do. I would ask her to join me and Jerry at the Homeless Shelter but I have better control over Jerry's delinquent tendencies if he and I work together, alone."

"So you don't want her around either."

"I didn't say that. Felicia believes I'm too harsh with Jerry, and I don't believe I am."

"And you don't want anyone to interfere with your beliefs," Olivia mumbled taking another sip.

"What was that, Olivia?"

"Nothing, Dad."

Rowan waited a few minutes as Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze. Then he said evenly, "If you can find Felicia a project, I would appreciate it. My only suggestion is that it be in the company of adults as she's is not really the maternal type."

"I know."

"Felicia is an intelligent woman with an incisive mind. I see great potential in the two of you being able to work together."

"I don't want to be accused of nepotism."

"No, not when you can be accused of cronyism in finding James Novak a position in your office, and the possibility of expanding that to your associates."

Olivia placed her empty tea cup on the table with decisive thunk. "Thanks for the tea, Dad."

Rowan stood reaching for the cup. "You're welcome, Olivia."

* * *

><p>After Rowan departed, Olivia fumed behind her desk for a few minutes, glaring at the orchid on her desk.<p>

Her relationship with Rowan was getting incrementally better with each cup of tea but the prospect of spending any more time than she had to with Felicia was about to throw all that into a tailspin.

Realising she wasn't getting anywhere fast in finding a solution, Olivia decided she needed to speak to Fitz. Checking his schedule on her computer, she smiled to see that he was in a meeting with Cyrus after which Fitz had no appointments for about an hour.

Olivia was mentally putting lining up all her issues while making her way to the Oval Office, when she bumped into Edison.

"Olivia," he smiled. "Got a minute?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"I was on my way to see Fitz."

"Then this is perfect timing," Edison said, taking Olivia by the elbow and steering her towards an empty office.

He ushered her into a visitor's chair before taking the seat next to her. "Can I get you anything? A glass of water, a plate of saltines?"

"No, Dad's got me on a regimen of Chinese date and ginger tea to control my nausea. So far it's working."

"Ah yes, your father has always been very protective of you. That's why he never thought I was good enough."

"He didn't think anyone was good enough for me."

"Except Fitzgerald Grant – it must help to be the President of the United States, even if the man does come with more baggage than an ordinary Senate Majority Leader."

Olivia linked her hands on her lap. "Why did you want to see me, Edison?"

Edison leaned into the back of his winged armchair, a smile playing on his lips. "The Vice Presidency is still vacant."

"Zeke has a few loose ends to tie up in Georgia."

"Loose ends?" Edison's smile broadened. "Liv, having a gay chief of staff is one thing but a gay vice president? It's no secret that the man has cold feet about coming out of the closet in high office."

"Zeke doesn't have cold feet. He has a few administrative issues in Georgia that he's finalising."

"Even if the man accepts the job, does Fitz really think the marginal vote is big enough to get him a second term?"

"Fitz realises that after what Sally Langston did, American voters are looking beyond the stereotypes to real leadership."

"Then it's time he looked closer to home. Fitzgerald needs bi-partisan support and I've got the complete package – I'm a democrat and I'm black with relevant credentials in Federal Politics. Fitz could use my help."

"He could, if he hadn't already given the job to Lucas Zeke."

"You don't think I've got the goods?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. Fitz has made his choice."

Edison smirked. "It's no secret that Fitz relies on you as his most trusted advisor. Your word got me into Fitz's cabinet."

"No, Fitz decided that himself on who he wanted in Executive Office."

"With your wisdom as his guiding light. All I'm asking is for you to shine your light in my direction to be second-in-command."

"I can't do that, Edison."

Edison dropped his smile and he sat forward with a determined look on his face. "It's a bit too late to stand on your principles, Liv. You lied to my face when I asked you if you were the President's mistress. You read me for filth with the criminal-whore-idiot-liar speech. In hindsight how do you feel about yourself now?"

Olivia sat up, straightening her spine in the face of Edison's unexpected attack. "I'm not ashamed of falling in love with Fitz. Our timing wasn't the best but I won't ever regret taking a chance at happiness with a man who was ready to walk away from everything he had because he loved me."

"You're telling me now what you should have told me then?"

"What would you have done, if I had said – 'yes, I love the President of the United States that is why I can never marry you, Edison. Not now, not ever'?"

Edison stared at her blankly.

"You don't know?" Olivia smiled at him briefly. "I think you would have used it against us. You would run to Sally with that information so she could destroy Fitz under the pretence of strict moral code. Well, we all know Sally's ethics are not as strict as she led us to believe and she was the worst thing to have happened to the Presidency, not Fitz falling in love with me."

"_I_ loved you, Olivia," Edison said gruffly. "You owed me the truth."

Olivia gave him a considering look. "The night Fitz was shot, you called me from the safety of the bunker, while I was still out in the open with a sniper on the loose."

"It was protocol. I was following Secret Service orders. I called you the first chance I got to make sure you were safe."

"I know, and I know you had to protect yourself first. That's why you'd be perfect for an aircraft emergency demo, but in real life a woman needs a man who'd recklessly break all the rules to make sure she was safe."

"So your need for painful, difficult, devastating, life changing extraordinary love now has to be reckless and selfless too. You are your father's daughter, Olivia, always demanding more than what's on offer."

Olivia smiled looking down at her linked hands, focusing on her wedding ring.

"What was on offer, Edison, was marriage to a man who found me suitable. I fit in with your idea of what the wife of a successful black senator should be. I had earned your affection because I was presentable, I was independent, I was successful and because I knew the difference between a salad and cake fork. You loved my image of what I could do for your career more than anything else. "

"Oh, and you think Fitzgerald loves you for anything less? You make him look good – a black woman standing in the wings, helping a white man in the White House."

"If you felt that way about Fitz, why did you help me get him out?"

"He was a means to an end."

Olivia met his gaze squarely. "So this is payback? You think I owe you because I could never love you the way I love Fitz."

"You can think of it anyway you like, Olivia, as long as I get what I want."

Olivia tilted her head. "What happened to you, Edison? You were a good man."

"You happened to me. You showed me the truth that nice guys do finish last."

Olivia's response never got voiced as the door suddenly flung open and Fitz strode in carrying Teddy. He didn't bother apologizing for the interruption, his glance arrowing from Olivia to Edison then back again.

"I was looking for you," he said briefly.

"I was just leaving." Edison got to his feet and walked around Fitz, who was still staring at Olivia, to exit the room.

Olivia stood up slowly, meeting his gaze. "Fitz…"

"Teddy needs his nappy changed."

Olivia glanced at the toddler who was staring at her solemnly. "That's why you were looking for me?"

"Yes, you need the practice." Fitz handed Teddy over to Olivia and walked out.

* * *

><p>Teddy turned his puzzled face from the brisk click of the shutting door, to Olivia. She buzzed his cheek. "Daddy is being a real nappy poo."<p>

Teddy chuckled and gave Olivia a kiss back as if he understood and agreed. Laughing, Olivia carried him off to the nursery be changed, brushing aside Marta's offers of help.

Once she had done the deed, Olivia handed Teddy over to Marta who took him away for his afternoon nap.

Then Olivia made a detour to her office where she called Lucas Zeke in Georgia, before calling Huck. The calls went better than she expected and it was with a happier frame of mind that she made her way back to the Oval Office.

Lauren was not at her desk, but even if she had been Olivia wasn't in a mood to be stopped. She sailed into the Oval Office and shut the door behind her as Fitz and Cyrus looked up from their positions, sprawled on opposite couches.

Olivia noticed Fitz eying her warily as Cyrus sat up, smiling. "Olivia, good timing! We need your input but Fitz said you were busy."

"I'm not busy," Olivia said taking the seat beside him, as Fitz lay stretched out on his couch.

"Trouble in Paradise?" Cyrus muttered, leaning close as Olivia adjusted a cushion behind her back.

"Nothing I can't handle," Olivia said confidently, meeting Fitz's cold gaze calmly.

"Maybe you can handle this too – Edison wants to be Veep," said Cyrus. "He brought up the fact that the position is still vacant, at the Cabinet meeting today. He hinted that it wasn't safe for the political stability of the United States, considering that Fitz had already been shot once. He said there needs to be a clear successor if anything should happen again, and that there were others willing to step in if Zeke was reluctant to accept his duty."

"Would you recommend him for the job, Olivia?" Fitz gave her a cold stare. "To take my place if anything should happen to me."

"No, I wouldn't," Olivia said quietly. Then taking a deep calming breath, she added, "I've just spoken to Zeke. He'll be here by the end of the week."

Fitz sat up abruptly as Cyrus raised a brow. "What? How do you know?"

"I spoke to him."

"When?" Fitz asked.

"After I changed Teddy's nappy." She had the satisfaction of seeing his face turn red. "I made a few calls to see if there was anything I could do to help and there was."

"What rabbit did you pull out of the hat this time?" Cyrus asked.

"I'm renting office space to Oscar who wants to set up his own business in DC."

Both men stared at her blankly.

"So now that it's all fixed…" Olivia got to her feet. "I'm going to take a bath."

Leaving a fraught silence behind, Olivia sailed out of the office, closing the door gently after her. She paused seeing that Lauren was back at her desk.

"Lauren, can you call the Secretary of State – tell him that Fitz would like to see him about the changes to his itinerary for the ASEAN trip. Oh, and Fitz needs to see the Secretary of Agriculture about Japan's tariffs on meat imports…"

* * *

><p>Olivia was just finishing a phone call when Fitz walked into her office and shut the door behind him.<p>

"Hi," he said.

Olivia placed the receiver carefully in its cradle. "Did you need something, Mr President?"

A smile ghosted his lips as he moved away from the door and approached her. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. He smoothed his hands around her, to link them on her lower back and whispered "You're beautiful when you're angry."

"Then I must be very beautiful."

Fitz kissed her nose. She didn't even smile.

His hands crept over her butt to pull her even closer as he bent and pressed his lips into her neck, making her breath hitch despite her will to control it.

"Is this your way of apologising?" Olivia murmured huskily when Fitz lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

"Yes." His teeth grazed her lips, before he dipped his tongue in for a taste that made her moan softly, but she opened her eyes in frustration when he drew back and said solemnly, "Now it's your turn to apologise."

"For what?"

"For making me sit through an hour of meetings all the while imagining you naked in a bubble bath."

That made her smile. 'I'm sorry."

He leaned closer, with his lips puckered for a kiss.

Olivia looked at his mouth, then shook her head.

"Livvie, you need to show me you're not still mad at me."

"I am still mad at you. You gave me a Sally Hemings moment and I didn't like it."

Fitz looked taken aback. "It wasn't like that. I was jealous. That's all."

"That's your excuse for getting out of nappy duty?"

Fitz stared at her, then bent low and sucked her lips in to his mouth for a voracious kiss. "I'm sorry." He growled and kissed her again.

This time when he drew back, Fitz looked at a dazed Olivia and asked, "So what else are you mad at me about? I'm in the mood to apologise."

That made her laugh softly and he smothered the sound in another kiss. "Am I forgiven?" he smiled against her lips.

"I'm thinking about it."

He dropped his forehead to rest against hers. "While you're doing that, tell me how you got Zeke to abandon his Rainbow Crew?"

"He isn't going to abandon them. He's going to move their base of operations to DC. Oscar is going to manage the crew while Zeke is at the White House. And Huck is going to help. I've told Oscar he can use the OPA offices."

Fitz was staring at her. "Your renting office space to Zeke's vigilantes?"

"Yes."

Fitz rumbled a sigh, which prompted Olivia to add, "I've got a spare office, Oscar has offered to rent it at a very generous rate and I've accepted. That's all. And…" she said softly, "It gets Edison off your back."

That almost made him smile. "I hate seeing him around you, Livvie. It brings back memories of the time I nearly lost you to him."

"You didn't lose me. I'm here, with you."

He lifted his hands to her face, and kissed her with a tender thoroughness that left her reeling. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

He wrapped her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

Then Fitz stepped away and reached for her hand, starting to lead her out of her office. He paused only to tell Olivia's secretary to cancel any meetings for the rest of the afternoon.

"Is that a Presidential order, sir?" her secretary asked seriously, although her eyes were twinkling.

"Yes." Fitz said blithely, smiling at Olivia's blush as he led her out of the room, heading towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"Guess."

"I don't need a nap."

"That's good because we're not having a nap."

"We?"

"We," He said firmly as they headed down the corridor towards their bedroom, from where one of the housekeeping staff exited with a smile.

"It's all ready for you, sir, ma'am."

"Thank you," said Fitz. "Can I make one last request – if you see Cyrus, can you run interference so he doesn't disturb us for the next hour or so."

"It would be my pleasure," the staffer walked away, whistling.

"Does everyone have to know?" Olivia asked as they stepped into the bedroom.

"Know what?" Fitz kicked the door shut.

"That we're going to have sex," Olivia murmured throatily as she slid his jacket off.

"Are we going to have sex?" Fitz grinned at her. "Is that what we're doing?"

She gave him a pert look as she pulled off his tie. "Remember you're still in apologising mode."

"Hmm," he murmured, trying to multi-task by kissing her while getting her skirt off at the same time.

When they were both completely naked with their clothes tossed haphazardly around the room, Fitz surprised Olivia by taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom instead of their bed. The sight of the bubble bath with rose petals scattered over the suds and scented candles on ledge made her smile.

"I like this apology."

He chuckled, shifting her closer until she was leaning against him. "This isn't an apology, Livvie. This is a promise of better things to come."

He met her throaty chuckle with a wicked smile of his own.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello! It's been 84 x 100 years I know! I've been having a few time management issues – tests, assignments, ongoing legal drama with ex-employer and then I got a temporary job – all of which made me lose my grip on my semi-ordered creative life. **

**It got so bad that KikiNickMC had to graciously give me the boot as her editor - for which I was deeply grateful because I wasn't coping at the time, even though I absolutely loved editing her beautiful story **_**On Stage**_** – please read, it's great ;)))**

**In the meantime I kept having severe guilt pangs for disappearing without update or explanation! So here's another chapter to assure you that I haven't abandoned you – promise (not permanently at least!). **

**However, I need to take another hiatus after this chapter as my final exams (for this semester) are due in 3 weeks. (Tragically, I'm one of those people who has to study VERY HARD in order to pass since I'm no good at overnight cramming. Doesn't help that I'm doing accounting and I hate maths.)**

**So, dear-all-of-you-still hanging-on (and those who've messaged me xoxo), I would really appreciate another leetle reprieve i.e a few more weeks without an update (after this one) until I finish my exams, which is my biggest worry. I should be done by June 15****th**** and after that I promise to update more regularly and not by the light of a Blue Moon.**


	34. First World Problems

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Fitz strode down the Centre Hall of the Executive Residence, thinking it was quiet for a Saturday morning. The kids were out, the dogs were napping in Teddy's room and Olivia was catching up on some reading.<p>

Or that had been the plan, he thought, smiling when he found her dozing on the couch, with a book in her lap and a highlighter in hand.

Moving closer, he read the book title upside down – '_What to Expect When You're Expecting'_. There were more highlighters and page markers strewn on the cushions, as well as more books on a similar theme piled on the lamp table next to the couch.

Clearing the debris off the couch, Fitz carefully eased the book and pen from Olivia's grasp, intending to pick her up and carry her to bed.

"Fitz…" He heard her mutter groggily as he placed the book and highlighter on the lamp table.

"Hi." He smiled, sitting down next to her as she straightened off the cushions and shifted towards him.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long." He lifted his arm so she could snuggle against him. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to carry you to bed."

"I'm fine here, like this," she sighed, linking her arms around his waist. "Did you have a nice chat with the new Indian Prime Minister?"

"Mm," he murmured against her hair. "Said he's looking forward to the visit."

"That's nice." Olivia mumbled through a yawn.

"Stubborn," he chuckled.

"What?"

He brushed a kiss on her temple and teased, "So what's all the cramming on pregnancy books about? Are we having a mid-semester test?"

Olivia poked him in the chest. "I just want to be prepared. I hate not knowing what I'm doing."

"Livvie, sweetheart, no one's expecting you to be an expert; you're a Learner Mom and you're doing fine. The doctors' assured you of that only yesterday."

"This isn't about tracking whether my pregnancy is normal. It's…"

"What?" he asked gently.

She sighed, burrowing into his shoulder. "I've never had a baby growing inside me. I feel so lost and confused sometimes... I have so many questions but I don't know whom to ask to get the answers."

"You can ask me," he said huskily, wrapping his arms around her.

He felt her smile against his neck. "You've never had a baby growing inside you either. Or Abby or Quinn. Or Felicia, not that I would ask, but you know what I mean…"

"What about Carlita and Sameera?"

Her sigh feathered his skin. "I've called a few times, but we live in different time zones and I don't want to send an email in case it gets into the wrong hands and we end up on the News - with the headlines 'First Lady complains of restless leg syndrome - is it terminal or just a First World symptom'?."

Fitz rubbed her back. "Let me talk to Cyrus; see if he can recommend someone closer to home, that you can talk to."

Her soft chuckle tickled his throat. "Cyrus can't fix this."

"Then tell me what to do, so I can fix it."

After a long pause, she whispered, "I wish my Mom was here, Fitz."

"Livvie…"

She sighed again, "I know..." Her arms crept around his neck and he felt her soft kiss on his skin. "Just hold me."

* * *

><p>"DC has nearly eight <em>thousand<em> homeless people?" Jerry hissed to Rowan as they donned food-handling gloves and head gear, in preparation for the lunch detail at the soup kitchen.

"It's less than one and a half per cent of all the people who are homeless in the United States."

"Eight thousand people freezing on park benches in the richest country in the world! That's fucked!"

"Only those who cannot get into a shelter would sleep on park benches."

"But they're kids!"

"Yes, nearly a quarter of the homeless in this country are children."

Jerry crossed his arms across his chest and scowled. "I didn't know it was this bad. That kid with the red cap I was talking to, said his mom threw him out when she got a new boyfriend. The boyfriend didn't want to feed someone else's kid. So his mom told him to pack a bag and get the hell out." Jerry swallowed and looked away. "Guess I'm lucky Mom and Dad weren't like that."

Rowan gave him a level look. "My daughter would chew off her right arm before she did anything to harm you kids. I would like to think your dad would too."

"I know," Jerry said gruffly. "I'm trying to picture what it's like dumpster-diving for food or sleeping on concrete or running away from cops, junkies and pimps."

"Jerry, you don't have that life. You have the privileged life of a President's son. The purpose of this visit is not to make you feel sorry for yourself. You are close to the man in the seat of power, closer than anyone else in this shelter. And when you're in that position, you can't stop at empathy when you feel strongly about eradicating injustice. You have to do something. '_If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. ... We need not wait to see what others_ _do'_."

"What does that mean?"

"You may have heard that quote boiled down to the bumper sticker phrase – '_Be the change you want to see in the world_' – it's a quote by Mahatma Ghandi an Indian Civil Rights activist about taking action towards changing circumstances we do not like or want to accept."

"I know who Ghandi is – he was a racist and a paedophile!"

Rowan paused frowning, then he said with careful diction. "Ghandi was a complex human being, not a one-dimensional caricature. You are 14 years old – old enough to avoid getting your information in sound bites and post-it notes. To learn about the man, you have to read about him from as many sources as you can and then draw your own conclusions."

"I don't want to know about Ghandi. I want to know how Dad can find homes for the homeless in DC."

"Then how do you think Ghandi – who felt that poverty was the worst form of violence – would feel about your Dad spending half a million dollars on one state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister, when there are 8000 homeless people on our doorstep who've been getting their dinner out of a dumpster?"

"Hey, you guys ready to rock?" The shelter manager, poked his head through the doorway. "We've got people lining up, waiting to be served."

* * *

><p>Fitz and Olivia decided to take a stroll on the White House lawns after lunch, taking Teddy and the dogs with them.<p>

"I'm thinking of asking Zeke to take over from me on the ASEAN trip."

Olivia threw a ball for the dogs to chase, then turned towards Fitz who was standing nearby, with Teddy on his shoulders.

"Isn't that a dereliction of duty, Mr President?"

"My wife is pregnant."

Seeing that the other dogs were giving chase to Daisy running away with the ball, Olivia came over to slide her arms around Fitz's waist. "You made me pregnant. That's about all you can do in this baby-making process, now it's all up to me for the next seven months."

"Six," Fitz corrected.

"Six!" Teddy chortled.

"See, even Teddy can see that I still have a very important job in this baby-making process – helping you remember dates, giving you back rubs, holding your hair when you puke. I'd say I've got the rough end of the deal. Ow!" he grinned when Olivia poked him in the ribs. "What was that for?"

"You know what that was for," Olivia said pertly, giving Teddy's knee a kiss before stepping back.

"That hurt, Livvie," Fitz pouted. "Kiss and make me better." He puckered his lips.

"Shouldn't I kiss you where it hurts?" she teased. "Not your duck lips?'

"Duck lips?! Come back here and say that to my face!"

Olivia's laugh quickly turned into a groan when Daisy trotted up and plopped a spit-covered ball into her palm for another throw.

Olivia obliged, and was in the process of cleaning her hands with a tissue from her jacket pocket, when Fitz snaked an arm around her waist and caught her to him.

"Fitz!" she chuckled, as Teddy chortled from his perch on Fitz's other arm.

"You were saying," Fitz growled, just before he captured her mouth and kissed her.

"Mmm," she sighed. "You are the best kisser, President Duck Lips." He would have kissed her again if Teddy hadn't smashed his face between them, making them both laugh.

"You don't have to babysit me," Olivia said softly, when they resumed walking; holding hands with Fitz, while he carried Teddy on his shoulders again. "I'm fine and I'll be fine. You have a lot of travelling to do in the next few months – there's the G8 and NATO summits, which you cannot delegate."

"I don't want to leave you to cope with things on your own."

"I'm not on my own – I've got Dad, the kids, my OP associates and the White House staff. There are plenty of people to look after me."

"Livvie, Rowan and Jerry have just started volunteering at the homeless shelter and you've got Felicia helping Karen with her Native American history project for school, Huck, Abby and Quinn are helping Oscar set up shop in DC – which doesn't leave a lot of time left over for you."

Olivia tugged him to a stop, then directed him towards a bench nearby. She soon had Fitz seated with her in his lap, while she carried Teddy in hers.

"Comfy?" She grinned as Fitz wrapped his wife and son in his arms.

"Very." He laughingly scattered kisses on both their faces until the dogs came running back wanting to join in this new game.

* * *

><p>"What happens to all the food we don't eat?" Jerry frowned at the food in the serving dishes on the dinner table.<p>

"They get taken back to the kitchen, like they do every night," Olivia said, passing the platter of steamed vegetables to Felicia.

"And what happens after that? Does it get thrown out?"

"No, we do have modern food preserving technology – commonly known as a refrigerator here at the White House," Olivia smiled. "And as a bonus, we also have those convenient food storage inventions called re-sealable containers."

"Mom," Jerry grinned reluctantly. "Yeah, I heard about the fridge and containers, but we don't usually get leftovers here at the White House."

"Yes, we do," Karen said, glancing up while twirling pasta around her fork. "We've got last night's chicken in tonight's broccoli cheese sauce."

"Except for the chicken you left on your plate, Jerry. I'm sure they had to throw that out," Fitz said, reaching for another corn cob.

Jerry had the grace to blush as he glanced at Rowan. "Yeah, well, I won't be doing that again."

Fitz stopped in mid-bite, stared at Jerry then turned to Rowan. "Your idea of taking Jerry to a homeless shelter is working out better than I expected."

"Jerry found the homeless shelter very confronting."

"Yeah, DC has so many homeless people, and here we are living in a massive house with 132 rooms, most of which are empty. Why can't we let people sleep here?"

"Jer, we can't turn the White House into a homeless shelter."

"Why not, Dad? You're the president. This is your house, your rules."

"Jer, you know I don't own this house. There are protocols, security; no one can just walk in here and stay for the night."

"But you're the President, can't you change the protocols so we can use up some of the wasted space in here?"

Before Fitz could answer, Olivia asked, "If your dad did that, Jerry, would you agree to sharing your room?"

There was a small silence, then Jerry said with a slight frown, "Share my room?"

"Yes, you've seen the rooms in the shelter – they've got bunk beds in there to fit as many people as they legally can, under the District's health and safety codes. You've got one big room all to yourself – we could fit in say five bunk beds in there and you can have ten instant roommates. You won't have a problem with that, right? You did have roommates in Andover…"

* * *

><p>"His face!" Fitz buried his face in Olivia's chest to muffle his laughter.<p>

They were in the private study that Fitz used as his afterhours office; de-briefing over what had happened at dinner, curled up together in a leather armchair.

Olivia smiled, stroking a hand through his curls and his shoulders as his body shook with more laughter. "It's okay, I told him I was only teasing."

Fitz lifted his head and grinned at her, his face red and his eyes brimming with tears. "Livvie, that was priceless. I wish I'd recorded the entire scene."

"You know he's not going to let this go. Jer is as stubborn as you when it comes to getting what he wants." She traced a fingertip over the curve of his ear, watching his eyes darken.

"You looked so sexy, shutting him down, Livvie," Fitz said huskily, running his hands up along her back. "You look very sexy right now."

"You are very turned on right now." Olivia chuckled, tugging at his lower lip as she rocked in his lap.

Fitz groaned sliding his hands up under her skirt. "I love you in skirts," he growled, then laughed softly when she grumbled, "My jeans don't fit."

"I love that you're getting big in all the right places…"

There was a pause, then Olivia asked with mild curiosity, "Where are all the wrong places, Fitz?"

His gaze focused on her face, narrowing warily on her bland expression. "What?"

"You said I'm getting big in all the right places? Where are all the wrong places?"

Fitz kept staring at her until Olivia began to giggle.

"Your face looks just like Jerry's," she chuckled as his shoulders relaxed and he pulled her close.

"Livvie, you know I'll find you beautiful…" He feathered a kiss on her lips. "…Gorgeous…" Another kiss. "…Delectable…" One more. "…Even when you end up looking like a beached whale."

"I hate you." She smiled against his lips.

"I love you." He kissed her some more, then drew back to say huskily. "I called Cyrus while you were reassuring Jerry we weren't going to turn his room into a dormitory for the homeless."

"What did he say?"

"I got James. He said you need a midwife. Friends of his got a midwife for the mother in a surrogate pregnancy. They found the whole experience less stressful after the midwife came into the picture."

Olivia looked at him for a long moment, then snuggled close, laying her head on his shoulder. "A midwife?"

"Yes." He kissed her forehead. "We can get the White House doctor to recommend one or we can make our own inquiries or get James' contact. Whatever you want."

"Okay."

* * *

><p>"Dad, how much are you spending on the state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister?"<p>

"I don't know, Jer."

"But it's a lot of money?"

"Don't you have homework?"

"Nope. Not during Sunday brunch. And Mom's not around to save your ass."

"My ass does not need saving."

"Where is Mom?" Karen came entered the dining room on the tail-end of the conversation.

"She's gone to church with Rowan and Felicia, pumpkin."

"Mom's gone to church? Mom's never gone to church on a Sunday."

"I think she wants to start a new tradition."

"Then shouldn't we have gone too? If it's a new family tradition, we're her family too."

"We only go to church for funerals, christenings and weddings. It's a Big Gerry rule."

Fitz looked at Jerry, then turned to Karen. "Okay, we'll go to church with Mom, starting next Sunday."

"Okay, whatever. Dad, you haven't told me how much money you're wasting to feed the Indian Prime Minister."

"We have an Indian Prime Minister?" Karen's eyes widened. "Felicia didn't tell me that."

"No, this isn't a Native Indian Prime Minister, pumpkin. This is the leader of India, a country on the continent of Asia."

"Yeah, India has around 78 million people homeless compared to the 610,000 in the US. Maybe you need to send money to India instead of throwing a party for the guy who probably lives in another big house with over a hundred empty rooms."

"Jerry, the Indian Prime Minister and I meeting up to talk about trade, jobs and world peace. We're going to be wasting each others' time talking about dog farts."

"Were you spying on me when I was talking to Peter?"

"You had your door open."

"Sure, Dad."

"Seventy-eight million is a lot of people," said Karen, staring down at her plate of pancakes.

"Yeah, that's why Dad should give the guy cheeseburgers for dinner. Bet they won't cost half a million dollars for a one-night party."

Fitz sighed, and reached for the morning papers.

* * *

><p>"How was church?" Fitz asked when Olivia tracked him down on the White House Family Theatre, ensconced in one of the plush red seats, typing away on his laptop.<p>

"What are you doing down here?"

"Hiding from Jerry." Fitz closed the laptop and placed it on the seat beside him, before tugging Olivia onto his lap. "Now tell me, how was church?"

Olivia smiled at Fitz as he slid his hands down her bare leg to slip off her shoes and settle her more comfortably in his arms. "It felt good, I felt at… peace."

He leaned forward to kiss her nose. "Karen wants to go with you next Sunday. All of us as a family."

Olivia crooked a wry grin. "And you said yes?"

"You don't want us to go with you?"

"I'd love to have you all go with me. We'll need Tom to make the arrangements if you're going, that's all."

"I'm going. I don't want to spend another brunch alone with Jerry. He wants me to serve cheeseburgers at the state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister."

Olivia giggled, stroking her fingers through the curls on the back of his neck. "I told you Jer wouldn't let it go. Though in all fairness, I think my Dad may have put him up to it. Dad was talking about the obscene amount of money people spent on state dinners – and what would require half a million dollar spend for one night – are we serving gold dusted caviar and Bald Eagle eggs?"

Fitz groaned. "We're under siege."

"Yep. But the two of us can take the two of them."

"With one arm tied behind our backs," he chuckled, kissing her.

Olivia laughingly agreed, snuggling closer.

"Have I told you how much I love you in skirts," Fitz breathed in her ear.

"Yep," she confirmed huskily. "We've already had the beached whale conversation…"

"Livvie…"

"Yes, baby?"

"Have you ever made out in the front row of a movie theatre?"

"Not at the White House, no."

Fitz drew back. "But you made out – who was the guy?"

"Fitz…"

"Was it Edison?"

"No, it wasn't Edison."

"Was it a guy?"

Olivia ghosted a smile. "Yes, it was a guy."

"Does he have a name."

"You don't know him."

"I can find out."

Olivia sighed, looking at the stubborn jut of his chin. "Okay, it was on prom night. My date and I left early and went to the movies. At the end of the movie, when the credits were rolling, he kissed me and I kissed him back. End of story."

"That was it?"

"Yes."

"Just a kiss?"

"Yes."

"You didn't let him get to first base?"

"I don't play baseball."

He stared at her solemnly.

She stared back.

"Livvie…!" Whatever he'd been going to say got lost, when she leaned close and whispered, "I'm not wearing a bra."

There was a long pause, then he said huskily, "You went to church without a bra?"

At her non-committal response, he lifted his hand from her belly to her breast and felt her through the thick fabric of her peplum jacket. "Naughty girl…"

"Mmm…" she smiled as he set about unbuttoning the jacket. "You're doing very nice work there, Mr President, at second base."

"Sweetheart, I'm going for a home run."

"Cheeky boy…" she snuffled a laugh, parting her lips for his mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:So all the baseball references were taken from Urban dictionary ;)  
><strong>

**BTW, now I know why they say you should write everyday – that is _write_ something_ creative_ every day, not just grocery lists or 'I have absolutely no idea!' to 30-mark exam questions or 'what is this shit' to Tumblr blog posts (erudite though they all may be).**

**No, the reason that I need to keep writing something creative every day is that if I don't – for nearly a month – it's really difficult to get back into… well… writing. I've just spent days wandering in the Land of Lost-Plots, fearing I'd never find my way out.**

**The only way out, I've found, is to keep writing crap until you get sick of it – then get a good night's sleep, work your way through a year's worth of calories in chocolate, and do as many rewrites as you can until reading your own writing no longer makes you want to bury your laptap in a deep ditch in the back garden.  
><strong>

**Thus, I have another chapter in this meandering tale of where-is-it-going-exactly story ('I have absolutely no idea' is the answer to that 30-mark question too!). Actually, I lie I do know where it's going, I just haven't written it yet ;0)**

**Research time:**

**So I got the figures for the Homeless from Wikipedia:**

**610,042 people were homeless in the United States. Nearly two-thirds of people experiencing homelessness (65 percent or 394,698) were living in emergency shelters or transitional housing programs. Source: The 2013 Annual _Homeless_ Assessment Report ... - OneCPD (X) ( .info/resources/documen _)_**

**Fewer affordable rents pushing region's homeless population up, report says (X) (Read More: local/number-of-homeless-in-dc-region-rises-as-rents-increase/2014/05/14/db4638e4-dac4-11e3-b745-87d39690c5c0_ )**

**Homeless D.C. valedictorian says education was 'the only way out' (X) Read more: .ca/homeless-d-c-valedictorian-says-education-was-the-only-way-out-1.1870686#ixzz355PqfQo8**

**D.C. criticized for management of homeless shelter (X) Read More: local/dc-politics/dc-criticized-for-management-of-homeless-shelter/2014/03/28/01deb750-b69f-11e3-a7c6-70cf2db17781_**

**Information about the Indian Prime Minister's state dinner and state dinners, and the White House in general: **

**Barack Obama's dinner for PM Manmohan Singh most expensive since 2009: Report. .**

**Good Question: Why Do White House State Dinners Cost So Much? 2014/02/11/good-question-why-do-white-house-state-dinners-cost-so-much/**

**A Taste of the Past: White House Kitchens, Menus, and Recipes. .**

**How Many Rooms are in the White House, Plus 14 Other Fun Facts. how-many-rooms-are-white-house-plus-14-other-fun-facts-369006**

**And information about midwifery at What is a Midwife? Source: whatisamidwife**


	35. Dinner Plans

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Before the dinner…<strong>_

"Dad's avoiding me." Jerry stomped into the West Sitting Room and collapsed on a sofa.

From the comfort of an adjacent armchair, Rowan spared a glance from the book on his lap, and said evenly, "So you're going to throw the race at the first hurdle?"

Jerry angled his head to frown at Rowan. "No one's throwing a race! I'm saying we need a change of plans."

"_We_?" Rowan peered over his reading glasses at Jerry.

"Yeah, _we._ I read up on that Gandhi dude. He got the East Indians together to protest Britain's salt tax. He was all about changing the world, but he wasn't about changing it alone. That's saying you can't set me up to corner Dad, while you sit back and pretend this has nothing to do with you."

Rowan closed his book with a snap. "What exactly are you accusing me of, young man?"

"You need to the walk the talk, old man. Be the change_ you_ want to see in the world."

"Jerry, I can't get involved in some crazy scheme that's going to get you grounded."

"Mom's real Dad would stand up for the things he believes in."

"That joke is getting old and it was never funny."

"Not when you don't have half the guts Mom has."

"Jerry, I am a seasoned man of mature years. I will not rush into things like an impetuous juvenile."

"Yeah, I get it. You're old and scared and you want me to all the work. This is why nothing ever changes – impetuous juveniles don't have the power to change, and scared old men don't want to use the power they have to make change. Unless you're Gandhi… or Martin Luther King."

Jerry got to his feet and ambled towards the door. He had just reached for the door handle when Rowan called out, "Wait!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Political Blogger<strong>_…

"…_The White House is bringing back the good times with a state dinner for the newly-elected Indian Prime Minister. _

_"The United States has seen more political turbulence in recent times than its South Asian ally, but sources say this will not stop President Grant from calling on the Prime Minister to join forces in curbing American counter-terrorism efforts in the region, as well as aligning India's policies with American strategies for trade, employment and weapon sales…"_

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, the Graphics and Calligraphy Office has sent over the extra invitations you wanted, but I wanted to check the address with you before I had them posted."<p>

Olivia looked at the her Chief of Staff in confusion. "Where were you asked to send the invitations?"

"A post office box… for a soup kitchen in DC."

"I see," said Olivia.

"The Chief Calligrapher said the updated list was hand-delivered by your father, in a sealed envelope. Would you like to… see the list, ma'am?"

"Yes, I would and can you send a copy to Tom."

"Of course, ma'am."

An hour later, Tom walked into Olivia's East Wing office, shut the door and said calmly, "Ma'am, the 15 names that were added to the list are homeless veterans. They've been staying at the shelter where Jerry and Rowan have been helping out."

He paused, before adding, "Are you going to tell the President so he can ground Jerry?"

Olivia gave him a wry smile and shook her head. "No, because this time, I think it's my Dad that needs to be grounded. And he's not the type to stay in his room."

"What did have in mind, ma'am?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Al Jazeera news post…<strong>_

"…_Homeless veterans from a DC shelter had a picnic lunch with the Grants at the White House today. _

_"The veterans welcomed the invitation after the shelter's lunch budget was slashed at the start of last year. _

"_The White House five-course meal was served by the First Couple and members of the cabinet, including newly sworn in Vice President Lucas Zeke and his partner. _

"_It is understood that the event was organised with the help of the President's eldest son, Fitzgerald IV and the First Lady's father, Professor Rowan Pope. _

"_Later President Grant met with representatives of the Veterans NOW Coalition to discuss growing concerns for the welfare of homeless Veterans across the country, who make up a fifth of all homeless Americans on any given night…"_

* * *

><p>"Dad's mad, that's why he waited until I was at school to have that lunch." Jerry kicked a stone on the path. He was walking the dogs with Rowan at his side.<p>

"I didn't get an invitation either," Rowan sounded miffed.

Jerry grinned. "Mom knows you added those names to the guest list." Then at Rowan's continuing scowl, he added, "On the bright side, the guys had a great time."

"Don't rest on your laurels. Our work has only just begun."

"Who said that?"

Rowan cast a puzzled, irritable look at Jerry. "I did."

"Just checking it wasn't someone important like Gandhi."

"Listen, young man, we are living in an age of manufactured poverty. Treating the symptom isn't going to rid us of its cause!"

"Geez, have you taken your medication today, old man? Calm down, I've already thought of Plan B."

* * *

><p>Olivia walked into Cyrus' office to find him, Tom and the White House executive chef peering into a laptop.<p>

When she entered, Cyrus slammed the laptop shut and he sat there for a moment, not sure what to do with his hands before he finally placed them flat on the laptop and smiled at her. "Olivia. How nice to see you."

Olivia glanced from Cyrus to Tom and the executive chef, then back to Cyrus. "We had a meeting ten minutes ago with the Chief of Protocol about the State Dinner." Then looking at Cyrus more closely she said, "What's going on?"

There was an exchange of glances, then Cyrus sighed and opened the laptop, hit a few keys and turned to the screen towards her.

On the screen was security footage showing Jerry and her father entering the White House kitchen and inspecting the pantries, the storage cupboards, the cool room and another couple of doors.

"They're checking out the place," Olivia muttered.

"Yes, I believe it's called 'casing the joint'," Cyrus said dryly. "Or at least that's what Tom thinks they're doing. It's no secret that Jerry wants us to serve the iconic American burger a la Soup Kitchen to our esteemed guests. It looks like they are checking where the real food for the dinner is kept."

"Did they take anything?"

"Not exactly, ma'am," Tom inserted, "They replaced a bag of spuds with frozen fries. Guess they wanted to see if there'd be a reaction."

"I see."

The chef looked at Olivia. "Ma'am, if there's going to be a switcheroo I'm concerned about the okra and prawns – if they get taken, we won't be able to get a fresh supply in time." He paused when the door swept open and Fitz walked in.

"Tom, they told me I'd find you—"

He paused, his gaze coming to rest on Olivia. A moment later, he was at her side, sliding an arm around her waist. "What's going on here?"

"Professor Pope and Jerry are getting ready to steal food from the kitchen," said Cyrus.

"Not steal exactly, sir," Tom said.

"More like replace," the chef hastened to add.

"They want to make sure we serve burgers," added Olivia.

"Unless we can catch them in the act," said Tom. "Scare the crap out of them."

Fitz and the others stared at Tom. "That's evil," Fitz grinned. "I like it."

* * *

><p>Olivia stifled a yawn. She was seated on a bag of rice, leaning against Fitz who was seated next to her.<p>

Even in the silence, she could feel the weight of his censure – he didn't want her to be there. He wanted her safe and warm in bed, or at least safe and warm and not in the dark pantry of the White House kitchen where the dry goods were stored.

On the heels of that thought, her jaw cracked on a second yawn. She heard Fitz give a soft laughing groan, a second before his arm tightened around her.

"Stubborn," he whispered, his lips seeking and finding the corner of her mouth in the pitch dark.

If they had been alone, she would have sneaked a kiss of her own, but with Tom and a couple of agents sharing the space, she settled for stroking her fingers over his arm.

A second later, Tom cleared his throat, and said softly, "They're on their way."

They waited in silence. A while later, they heard a door creak open and a voice that sounded very much like Oscar's say, "The weird vibe is stronger in here."

"Yeah," said a voice that Olivia knew was Huck's. "Didn't you say there was a night light on in the kitchen?"

"There's probably a circuit break," Rowan said.

"Still doesn't feel right. We should abort," muttered Oscar.

"If you do, Dad wins," Jerry protested. "Look, I'm going in." The beam of light entered the kitchen, and hit Olivia straight in her face.

Even with the warning, the beam of light in their faces was startling.

"Agh!" she gasped.

"Aarrck!"

The flashlight dropped and there were sounds of stumbling as bodies went down, then the lights came on and Olivia sprang forward to see Jerry lying prone on a heap that included Rowan, Huck and Cyrus.

"Huck!" Olivia protested.

Fitz frowned at Oscar. "Is Zeke in on this too?"

Huck and Oscar untangled themselves and helped up the other two before Oscar said calmly, "Good evening, Mr President. How are we this evening?"

"Cut the crap, Oscar, and answer the question!"

"Put like that, I'd like to assure you that I kept Zeke right out of all this. I got involved because my buddy Huck needed help. No one else is involved except for the people in this room."

Tom reported mildly, "We've got Oscar's crew, sir. They're in the underground tunnels, using the network to bring food from the basement of the Eisenhower Building to the White House kitchen."

"You have to let those guys go." Huck stepped forward. "I got them involved when I heard Jerry needed help."

"You compromised White House security to sabotage the State Dinner? That's a Federal crime and you know it!"

Huck scowled at Fitz. "What I know is that I was homeless when I met Olivia. If Liv hadn't fed me, cleaned me up and given me a job, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be buried in a potter's field."

In the ensuing silence, Rowan cleared his throat. "The purpose of this exercise wasn't to sabotage a dinner or breach security. It was to bring our protest home, make it visible on gold-edged White House china; to contrast the haves with the have-nots on a single plate."

Olivia stared at her father. "Dad, I can't believe _you_ would agree to all this – you're always telling me to act within the law!"

"Olivia, laws are made by men and they can be changed by men, or women, if they are so inclined."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fitz frowned, as the others watched with the fascination of spectators at a tennis match.

"Fitzgerald, you broke White House tradition when you got a divorce and married Olivia. And again, when you declared yourself an independent while still in office. But that is the extent of your boldness. You stop at self-serving changes, you don't have the will to make life changes for the masses. You know why? Because that would mean changing the status quo that keeps you in power as a privileged white man. "

"Dad!"

"Professor Pope!"

Olivia and Fitz looked at each other, then Fitz said softly, "Let me."

"No, let me!" snapped Rowan. "In the past few weeks, I have seen my brilliant daughter relegated to the role of party planner. Olivia is a brilliant lawyer but she has resigned herself to a life of mediocrity. She deserves better than to check table settings and flower arrangements! She deserves to shine in her own right, without staying in the shadows as your personal fixer! When all she is doing is fixing your messes so you have a chance at a second term! A second term to maintain your privileged status!"

"Dad, enough already!" Olivia cried, placing a hand on her stomach.

Suddenly every eye in the place snapped to her gesture, and as Fitz put a protective arm around her, Rowan took a step forward, only to be held back by Tom. Seeing this, Olivia said in a milder tone. "It's late. Jerry, you have school tomorrow and it's past your bedtime."

"But, Mom, I haven't had a chance to say anything."

"Consider that a good thing," Fitz glared at his son. "You should plead the Fifth and go to bed. We'll talk about what you've done tomorrow."

As Tom shepherded everyone out, and with a nod from Fitz the other agents stepped out to wait in the corridor. Once they were the only ones left, Fitz turned to face Olivia, lifting his hands to cup her face, studying her intently.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"But you felt something? Do you want me to call the doctor?"

"I'm fine, Fitz," Olivia reassured, smiling with a brightness she didn't feel. Then her smile vanished when he added softly,

"Am I holding you back, Livvie?"

"No," she stressed, lifting her hands to his. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

He drew her gently into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. "Do you remember the day I told you I wanted to be an ordinary man, so I could get a divorce to marry the woman I love."

"Yes," Olivia mumbled into his chest.

"I haven't changed, Livvie, I'd toss all this away in a heartbeat to be with you, if you wanted to return to running Pope and Associates."

Olivia drew back to look at him, tightening her arms around him. "You want someone else to deal with Jerry and my Dad?"

Fitz stared at her for a long moment, then slow smile touched his lips. "Yeah."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Rowan padded downstairs after a restless night convinced everyone else was asleep; only to see Jerry on the landing, dressed in jeans, a hooded jacket and sneakers.<p>

"Casual Day at school?"

"I'm not going to school. I've got word out to the guys on the street and we're going to have a sit-in front of the White House."

"Those protesters will be arrested."

"That's the plan. Criminals get a warm bed and three meals a day. It's time the homeless got the same deal. You coming?" Then seeing Rowan hesitate, Jerry smirked. "Yeah, I thought not. This was never about the homeless with you, was it? This was about punishing Dad for marrying Mom."

Rowan gave Jerry a level look. "There are things you are far too young to understand. I want great things for Olivia, and I don't see her achieving that in the role of wife and mother to a white man and his children."

"Wow, that sounds racist."

"Only a white boy would think so."

"Yeah, well this white boy is glad that Mom's part of this family. I would say more about that but I've gotta run, I'm meeting the guys at President's Park. I'll tell them not to count on you in future because you prefer to be an armchair warrior, blaming Dad for everything and hating Mom for marrying him."

Jerry brushed past Rowan and took a couple of steps, before Rowan snapped, "Wait!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wire services online …<strong>_

"…_The President's son, Fitzgerald Grant IV, made headlines around the world today, when he skipped school to lead thousands of homeless protestors for a sit-in on Pennsylvania Avenue. Joining him in the protest was Professor Rowan Pope, the First Lady's father. _

"_Sources say the two have been actively campaigning against the cost of the upcoming State Dinner for the Indian Prime Minister. First son Jerry took to social media to call the half million spend a 'wicked waste of money', in light of funding cuts to homeless welfare programmes. _

"_DC Police did not make any arrests as the city didn't have enough holding cells for the protesters, although some did volunteer for lock-up, saying they were looking forward to a place to sleep for the night._

"_President Fitzgerald Grant and First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant later spoke with the protestors, guided by Jerry and Professor Pope. The Grants heard about the realities of living on the street, including new urban designs incorporating spikes in concrete to turn the indigent from sheltered walkways, buildings and bridges._

"_That's all we had – a piece of concrete and they've taken that away from us; from my kids," said a mother of three, homeless after a work injury left her unable to pay rent._

"_President Grant said the work done by his son and Professor Pope had brought home to him the urgent need for action. _

"_Special interest groups and concerned citizens who joined the protest were overwhelmingly positive about the family input._

"A s_helter manager said the President's family had brought the issue to the forefront of the news cycle in a matter weeks, when campaigners had been trying to get remedial action for decades._

"_The protesters eventually dispersed, after emergency accommodation was found for the protestors in Washington DC, Maryland and neighbouring states. _

"_President Grant is expected to announce his plans for a permanent solution next week, before he flies to South East Asia …"_

* * *

><p>Back in his room, Jerry sat on the bed facing his father. "Am I grounded?"<p>

"No," Fitz came and sat next to his son.

"Are you sending me to Andover?"

"No." Fitz held up his hand when Jerry wanted to speak again. "Hold up, let me go first - what were you trying to achieve out there?"

"I told you, Dad. I want you to take action to help those guys."

"By getting me to feed the Indian Prime Minister burgers?"

Jerry looked at his hands. "We waste a lot of food."

"In the White House?"

"In the United States. We throw away almost half the food we have."

"Jer, that's-"

"We waste enough food to fill a 90,000-seat stadium and it costs about $165 billion a year. That's crazy. People are starving and we're wasting billions of dollars' worth of food."

Fitz gave a wry smile. "Jerry, I still don't get the connection with the state dinner."

"Wouldn't you feel better if the rich guys you invited for the State Dinner left a $2 burger uneaten on their plate, than prawns and okra?"

"...So you did all this because you want my guests to waste a less expensive meal?"

"Yeah. Maybe..."

"Jer-"

"Dad, look, I wasn't thinking about your guests, okay? I just wanted to give the guys at the shelter a meal they'd never had."

There was a long silence, then Fitz sighed. "Jer, your intentions were good-"

"So you'll serve burgers…"

"No, Jerry, I will not."

"Dad!"

"Jerry, listen. You need to stop and think about the bigger picture. Imagine if you invited Peter's parents from Malaysia to the White House and I served Mac and Cheese out of a packet, how do you think they'd feel? How do you think Peter would feel?"

Jerry was silent, then he said evasively, "I don't know."

"Yeah, you do know, Jerry. When Pete's Dad took you and Rowan out for a meal in China, did he take you to a street vendor? Or a fancy restaurant?"

"…Fancy restaurant," Jerry mumbled sullenly.

"That's the point I'm trying to get through to you, Jer. If all I could afford to give a guy to eat was a burger, that's okay but I'm representing one of the richest countries in the world. We need to be as hospitable to our guests as our guests are to us when we visit them, that is part of diplomacy, Jer."

"To rub our wealth in their faces?"

Fitz released a long sigh. Then he sat forward. "Jerry, do you know who'll look bad if we serve burgers and fries at the State Dinner. It won't be me, it'll be Mom."

"Mom?"

"Yeah, she's the one organising the event. If I nix her plans and go with yours; she'll be the one who gets the blame. Since this is her first State Dinner, you know what the media will say – they'll blow it all out of proportion, make Liv look stupid and incite the Indians to attack her too."

As Jerry stared owlishly, Fitz added, "You remember how devastated Mom was, the last time the media attacked her; she didn't want to get out of bed. Is that what you want, Jer? When Mom is pregnant? You know—"

"Jeez, Dad, stop! I get it. I don't want to get Mom in trouble any more than you do."

"Good." Fitz gave Jerry a narrow-eyed look. "Because if you go back on your word, and make this a disaster for Olivia, I will send you back to Andover and you'll stay there until you graduate."

"Thanks, Dad."

Fitz raised a brow, and Jerry said solemnly, "Relax, I promise I won't do anything to make the bigots attack Mom again."

Fitz stared at Jerry, then grabbed him up in a hug. "There are days when I don't know whether to hug you or strangle you."

"Dad, you're doing both! Leggo!"

Fitz grinned, releasing Jerry. Then he added softly, "I won't break my promise to find a place for your friends to stay."

"They are not the only ones who need help."

"I know, Jer. But let's start with the ones in DC, okay?"

* * *

><p>Upstairs in the Music Room, Olivia glared at her father. "Why are you so intent on ruining Fitz?"<p>

"Olivia, that accusation is unjust."

"You are a Law Professor who deliberately broke HR 347 legislation while being a resident of the White House."

"That law is an abuse of our right to free speech."

"So which is it Dad: free speech, the rights of the homeless or me wasting my privileges as a black woman in the White House; what exactly are you trying to achieve?"

"Olivia, I have been an armchair warrior my entire adult life; a man who voices his dissent within acceptable boundaries. I've written scholarly articles read by a handful of people who may or may not be influenced by my learned opinions. I have encouraged independent thinking in young, rebellious minds about moral obligations, judicial oversight and other ethical considerations that get side-lined by a big fat pay cheque, an offer of partnership or a weekend cruise on a VIP yacht. There are things I do not like about this life and what it has offered me or my daughter. Am I willing to wait and see if the world will change enough to be give my grandchild what he or she deserves?"

"But a sit-in, Dad?"

"It felt like we were doing something, and it got Fitzgerald's attention."

"There are other ways to get his attention. I can't encourage civil disobedience from my own father against my husband."

"Fitzgerald is a big boy. He should be able to handle it."

"Dad, you need to stop. If you don't, I promise that you will not see your grandchild until he or she reaches the age of legal consent."

There was a silence. "You would spite your own flesh and blood to save your husband's reputation?"

"Yes, Dad, because I don't want my child believing they are nothing if they don't work twice as hard to be considered half as good. I want my child to know the love and affection of a father who will accept them for whoever they turn out to be, even if it is less than the best."

"A president's child can afford that luxury, Olivia."

"Then I have to make sure Fitz is still President when I have this child, Dad." Olivia waited. "Do I have your word that you will stop agitating?"

"And if I don't you will cut me off?"

"Yes."

"Stated in those unequivocal terms, how I can do anything but comply."

Olivia angled a look at her father, who gave her a wry smile. "Although, it might be a suggestion if you could let Fitz entertain the idea of having a family forum where we can approach Fitzgerald the President with our concerns and get a hearing, instead of constantly being sidelined by Fitzgerald the man."

"I can work with that suggestion."

* * *

><p>When Olivia walked into their private sitting room, Fitz was seated on the backrest of the sofa, staring at his crossed feet.<p>

When she walked, he straightened immediately, coming forward to take her in his arms.

"How did it go with Rowan"

"I threatened to cut him off from seeing our child."

"Livvie..." Fitz wrapped his arms more closely around her, then chuckled when she admitted,

"I was kinda looking forward to sending him away." Then she drew back and said, "How did it go with Jerry?"

"I threatened to send him to Andover until he graduates."

Olivia wrinkled her nose at him. "Fitz, that won't work. He knows you don't mean it."

Fitz smiled at her ruefully. "No, it didn't work. But the thought of making you look bad, did. He adores you, Livvie. You're my secret weapon."

"He's protective of the people he loves: me, Karen…"

"Not me."

"You're a big boy."

Fitz chuckled. "You think I'm a big boy?"

"Dad called you a big boy."

"Doesn't sound sexy when you put it like that. Maybe that's a good thing." He said, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. He shut the door and walked her over to stand next to the bed. Then he began unzipping her dress.

At her coy look, he smiled. "You're going to have a nap."

"Is that a request or an order?"

He kissed her nose. "It's a you-pulled-an-all-nighter and I want you to rest, my darling."

"You say the nicest things to cover up an order," she mumbled as his smiling mouth met her lips.

He finished unzipping her dress and slipped his hands inside the opening to draw her close for a torrid kiss, but pulled back in the middle of the second kiss to say huskily, "We're not doing this. You need a nap."

Olivia nodded. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she slowly slid the edges of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her naked breasts.

Hearing his soft groan, she let the dress fall at her feet, followed by her underpants. Then she stepped forward, lifting her hands to Fitz's face and stroking his burning ears with her fingers.

He watched her like a man drowning, which made her smile as she stood on tip toe to kiss his mouth gently, before turning away and bending low to pull back the quilt covers.

Once she was in bed, she smiled at Fitz. "Can you close the curtains on your way out, Fitz?"

He looked at the curtains, then back at Olivia sitting there, half naked in bed. Then with a soft growl, he pounced as she shrieked a laugh and scrambled away, although Fitz made sure to land on the bed and not on her.

Olivia was still giggling when he dragged her into his arms and gave her a hot, passionate kiss. "Naughty girl." He growled kissing her again while her hands went to work on his tie and shirt.

"Say that again, big boy."

He laughed, falling back against the pillows to give her room to work on his pants. "You know you're keeping me from doing some very important Presidential things."

"You want this to be a quickie?" Olivia asked, disappointed.

He laughed again, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap. "Livvie, I love and adore you, but you're not going to keep me from reading Zeke, Oscar and Huck the riot act."

"They were only helping Jerry and Dad."

"Livvie, I can't have vigilantes running loose in the White House."

Olivia slid her arms around his shoulders to comb her fingers through his curls. "I know."

"But…"

"But, I don't want you to be too hard on them. Huck was in a bad way when I found him. It's not easy living on the streets."

Fitz sighed, smoothing his hands up along her back. "I've been thinking about what Jerry said about empty rooms in this place. The Federal Government owns over 77,000 vacant buildings all over the country that we spend billions to maintain. I've spoken to the Office of Management and Budget and we agree that the buildings could be renovated to house the homeless."

He paused, smiling at Olivia. "Would you like to be in charge of that project? You can get the delinquents and vigilantes to help. And…" He rubbed noses with her. "It'll give you something to fix that meets your father's high standards."

Olivia drew back to stare at him with a soft look in her eyes.

"What?" he said huskily.

Without a word, she cupped his face and kissed him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Some of you already sussed where I was going with this, regarding Jerry inviting some unexpected guests to the State Dinner. That was my original intention, then I remembered that I'd put Tom in charge to improve White House security.**

**So while I generally ignore reality and Scandal the show, I thought it would be bad to ignore my own plots (unless I have genuinely forgotten them, which I do on occasion!).**

**Actually, yes, I did want to write the Grants as a normal family in the White House – which is what I find fascinating: how ordinary people cope in extraordinary situations. Also I'm sick of reading/watching/revering sociopaths and psychopaths or of Hollywood trying make their sick shit acceptable to the rest of us.(Oh my goodness, is that a soapbox, I see? Why, yes, let me make a stack of three!)**

**And I did forget to attribute the Gandhi quote! You remembered when I totally forgot! Thank you! I have included it in this chapter**

**You know what, Jerry and Rowan are becoming my favourite duo too, and I can think of a hundred things for them to do, but I have to remember the others haven't fallen off the edge of a flat earth!**

**As always, you all reading this are the best. I do appreciate the attention you pay to this story ;) and the feedback you give. And I'm glad you see improvements in my smut-writing skills (still a D-minus, not an A-plus) here I have to mention that KikiNickMc helped with that – when we collaborated on a few chapters of her lovely story _On Stage._**

**So again, any of you thinking of writing fanfic – go for it. The Scandal fandom is wonderfully supportive and it's a great place to start or re-start your writing ambitions.**

**Now for my references and points to note:**

**Note: I have absolutely no idea if there is an underground tunnel network from the Eisenhower Building where the 'ceremonial office' of the vice president is located.**

**Also have no idea where and how the White House kitchen stores its dry goods.**

**Now for the other sources I have misappropriated:**

**Gandhi quote: FALSER WORDS WERE NEVER SPOKEN (X)**

**Homeless References: **

**GOVERNMENT'S EMPTY BUILDINGS ARE COSTING TAXPAYERS BILLIONS (X)**

**HOW THE U.S. MANAGES TO WASTE $165 BILLION IN FOOD EACH YEAR (X)**

**HOMELESS VETERANS (X)**

**IN JUST 100 DAYS, DC FINDS HOMES FOR MORE THAN 200 HOMELESS VETERANS (X)**

**VETERANS NOW COALITION ON TRACK TO HOUSE OVER 400 HOMELESS VETERANS IN D.C. BY MARCH 31 (X)**

**600 CHILDREN LIVING IN WASHINGTON, DC HOMELESS SHELTER (X)**

**.**

**White House related**

**PRESIDENT AND THE EXECUTIVE OFFICE (X)**

**FIRST LADIES LIBRARY BLOG (X)**

**NFIA PRESS RELEASE FOR STATE DINNER AT WHITE HOUSE (X)STATE DINNER (X)**

**WHITE HOUSE FACTS › THE WHITE HOUSE STATE DINNER (X)**

**THE WHITE HOUSE'S DINNER THEATER (X)**

**WHITE HOUSE CHINA (X)**


	36. Guests and Ghosts

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Indo-Asian News Service report<strong>

"…_President Fitzgerald Grant welcomed the visiting Indian Prime Minister to the White House today, with a 'namaste' and praise for the growing bond of friendly cooperation between the two nations. _

"_The Prime Minister in turn said he was honoured by the invitation and was 'extremely keen' to make the acquaintance of the President's family. He added that India was looking forward to working with the current US government and its initiatives beyond the traditional Eurocentric perspectives. _

"_Among the guests,that included politicians and celebrities, were 200 school children from neighbouring schools who took part in the welcome celebration organised by First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant on the South Lawn, resplendent in flags of both nations. _

"_Mrs Grant wearing a white coat with hand-painted spring flowers and matching dress, spent the morning entertaining the Prime Minister's wife, who wore a pink sari... _

"_The day will culminate in a gala dinner later tonight…"_

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, the President is on his way to escort you to dinner."<p>

"Thank you," Olivia smiled at the staffer, as she fixed the new pair of diamond earrings that Fitz had surprised her with that morning. Her only other jewellery was her wedding and engagement rings.

Then as the door closed behind the staffer, Olivia took a deep breath, trying to still her nerves.

It was her first State Dinner, but something else felt off to Olivia as she picked up the silk stole that matched the coral pink of her silk-satin dress.

The dress had been custom-designed by Indian-born American designer Bibhu Mohapatra, off-the shoulder with a silver embroidered bodice that camouflaged her growing baby bump with enough distracting bling to make her feel comfortable.

Hearing the door open, Olivia turned to see Fitz walk in. He paused, staring at her, before closing the door slowly and leaning against it. He let his gaze wander up from the coral-pink tips of satin shoes over the slim skirt up over the patterned bodice and her bare neck, resting for a long moment on her neutral-tinted mouth, before locking onto the smile in her eyes.

He stepped away from the door and came towards her. "You look amazing," he said huskily, pressing a kiss on the sweet spot below her ear. "And you smell amazing." He drew back sliding his hands down the smooth length of her bare arms to take hold of her hands. "And you feel amazing," he finished thickly.

The sweetness of his words, the look on his face and the gentle touch of his hands brought a sudden rush of tears and Olivia blinked furiously.

"Hey!" Fitz was instantly concerned. "What happened? What did I say?"

"Everything nice," she said on a husky breath, smiling at him.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then each corner of her smiling mouth before reaching for her hand. "Come on, let's say goodnight to the kids and no extra-long hug for Jerry."

Laughing, Olivia laced her fingers through his as they headed out of the bedroom.

* * *

><p>They were making their way downstairs after the goodnight kisses and hugs, when Fitz glanced towards her and said, "Edison quit."<p>

Olivia blinked in surprise as they came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Then seeing him gazing at her intently, she teased, "Awww, Fitz, do you need a hug?"

He didn't smile. "You didn't know?"

Olivia took a step closer. "No, baby, I didn't. Edison doesn't share his secrets with me. It must have something to do with the fact I'm _your_ wife, not his."

As his smile grazed her ear, she murmured, "You shouldn't smile. You've lost a bipartisan member of your cabinet. It won't look good, having this many changes in a few short months."

Fitz drew back, his expression serious once again. "I'm glad to see the back of him. I don't trust him around you," adding after a brief pause, "Will you miss him?"

"You are a funny, funny man."

"That's no answer, Livvie."

"That's the only answer you're going to get, Fitz."

He stared at her solemnly.

With a cheeky look, Olivia slipped her arm through Fitz's, and tugged him along, but just before they stepped out onto the North Portico, she paused to adjust his black tie, murmuring, "You need to get over Edison. You know how much I hate being part of a threesome."

Fits shot her a look but Olivia was already stepping back. She walked ahead of him to stand on the red carpet, facing the phalanx of photographers and their ultra-sensitive audio equipment.

Uncaring of who was watching or listening, Fitz curved his arm around Olivia's waist bringing her close, to murmur in her ear, "You are and always have been the only one I love."

Olivia's her gaze dropped to his mouth as she lifted a hand, letting her fingers slide across his chest in a gentle caress before her arm returned to her side.

They stood in silence for a long moment, until she felt a flutter of nerves at the announcement that a motorcade had entered the White House gates signalling the arrival of the Indian Prime Minister and his wife from Blair House.

"All right?" Fitz looked at her.

She glanced at him, murmuring, "Fitz, with Edison gone, we have one less VIP and his guest for dinner."

"It's okay. Zeke's taken care of the numbers."

Then as the cars stopped at the bottom of the steps, Fitz released Olivia and stepped forward to greet the Indian Prime Minister and his wife.

* * *

><p><strong>News Network – hourly update…<strong>

"…_Pictures just in of our two lovebirds, President Fitzgerald Grant and First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant, whispering sweet nothings while waiting for the Indian Prime Minister and his wife to arrive._

"_Official sources say the 350 invited guests will be entertained in a specially decorated marquee with an orchestra, spacious dance floor and floating kitchens."_

"_On the instructions of the First Lady, the deep blue of the tent walls were picked up by the table linen, with the flowers an abundance of blue, purple and green to reflect the colours of the peacock, which is the national bird of India. _

"_Under the chandeliers, guests, who include the famous and infamous from both sides of the political spectrum as well as Hollywood and Bollywood, will dine on a meatless menu that includes okra, collard green, rice and curry prawns , showing a touch of the new First Lady's tastes and her visiting guests…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia's eyes widened at the couple waiting at the end of the receiving line.<p>

"You invited Dad and Felicia to the State Dinner?"

Fitz angled a glance at Olivia. "There were two spare seats at Zeke's table." He quickly turned away to introduce another guest to the Indian Prime Minister, until Rowan and Felicia were standing before them. "Prime Minister, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Professor Rowan Pope and his wife, Ms Felicia Adams."

The Indian Prime Minister smiled. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Professor Pope. I was hoping my esteemed host would grant me an audience with both you and his son. I could use determination like yours to help me fight tax evasion by US companies operating in my country."

"I thank you for the compliment, sir," Rowan smiled. "But I think your country is doing very well, and it is we who must learn from you in litigating Big Business."

Fitz cleared his throat.

Rowan stepped back, but not before the Indian Prime Minister said, "Professor Pope, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I hope to be able to speak to you again later this evening."

Fitz glanced at Olivia, who smiled back beatifically.

* * *

><p>"How's my favourite First Lady?" Zeke asked, stepping into Olivia's path.<p>

She was on her way back from leaving the Indian Prime Minister's wife happily ensconced in a group with Miss America Nina Davuluri, TV comedian Mindy Kaling, former First Lady Laura Bush and former First Daughter Chelsea Clinton.

"Zeke."

He grinned. "Ooh, frosty. Just the way I like a greeting. Looks like I'll be spending time with your daddy in the dog house."

Olivia gave a bland smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Honey, your daddy stood up to The Man. That makes him a hero in my eyes. The least I could do was to give him a seat at my table." He paused to study her face. "Olivia, that shade of red goes nice with your lipstick, hon, but think about the little bun in the oven before you start yellin' at me."

Before Olivia could respond, Cyrus appeared at their elbow. "Whatever it is you are discussing, do you have to talk about it _now_?"

"We're talking about Olivia's Daddy at my table."

Cyrus looked from Zeke to Olivia. "Right," he said, backing away. "Carry on. Don't, uh, let me stop you from, uh, discussing it." Cyrus narrowly avoided backing into Deepak Chopra and Bill Gates as he made a hasty retreat.

"What was all that about?" Zeke frowned.

Olivia shrugged, turning to face Zeke. "We can't talk about this now. Dinner will be served in a few minutes."

Zeke's customary smile was replaced with a solemn look. "Promise me you'll dance with your father just once tonight."

"He doesn't dance."

"He does. He just didn't tell you about it."

* * *

><p>On her way back to the table, she bumped into Cyrus who was watching Oscar and James laughing together in a group with comedians Chris Rock and Aziz Ansari.<p>

"Why don't you go and join them," Olivia murmured.

"I'm no good at small talk."

Olivia turned to look at Cyrus. "Why didn't you like me talking to Zeke?"

Cyrus turned his gaze away from the group and stare in disbelief at Olivia. "You don't know? Olivia," he paused to draw her further away from the crowd before hissing, "Need I remind you that you are both of a certain hue? Every time a white Republican sees more than one of you in a group, they hyperventilate in anticipation of a riot!"

"They better calm down. Fitz is going for more than token representation in his Cabinet. And it's bipartisan."

"Olivia, has love made you naïve? The Democrats are just Republicans with an Ivy League education that didn't cost a library and a generous cheque from Daddy to the Dean's scholarship fund. They both wear the same suits, but one doesn't hide the white hood in the closet."

Then drawing even closer, Cyrus muttered, "FYI, our esteemed leader's bipartisan non-tokenist cabinet took a hit today when Edison Davis packed his bags and left this sinking ship."

"We don't need him. We've got Edison."

"A gay black vigilante?" Cyrus shook his head at Olivia and went after a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.

* * *

><p>"All right?" Fitz mouthed as Olivia escorted the Prime Minister's wife back to her seat beside Fitz.<p>

She nodded with a distracted smile, glancing towards Zeke's table. Her father was laughing and chatting with the Indian trade minister. Then as if Rowan sensed her gaze, he paused and glanced over catching Olivia's stare. He smiled.

Olivia instantly averted her gaze, to find Fitz watching her. She gave him a reassuring smile before she turned away to return to her own table, and took her seat beside the Indian Prime Minister.

* * *

><p>Between the main and dessert courses, Olivia made a discreet exit. Seeing a bright green shimmer from the corner of her eye, she glanced round to see Felicia a few steps back.<p>

"I don't need an escort," Olivia said briefly.

Felicia glanced over her shoulder at the security detail following them at a distance, and raised her brow at Olivia.

"Correction, I don't need any more escorts than I am required to have under Fitz's orders."

Felicia ignored the implication. "Can we talk? It will only take a moment."

After a long hesitation, Olivia nodded, leading the way into the White House.

"You're angry that your father and I are at the dinner," Felicia said as soon as they entered the Green Room.

"I was surprised."

Felicia gave a brief smile. "Shall we sit?"

Olivia nodded and sat in an armchair, while Felicia took the nearest couch.

They waited in silence, then Felicia looked at her clasped hands and spoke in a measured tone, "Your father is trying to find a way to get close to you, his only child. Rowan accepted Fitzgerald's invitation to stay in this goldfish bowl for just that reason, Olivia."

"Felicia…"

"Olivia, please, I said this would only take a moment, so hear me out. When you returned from China, do you know how happy your father was making a damned cup of tea? You would think it was a life goal for a man who never steps into the kitchen.

"But then you got yourself a midwife, someone who doesn't believe in all that 'weird Asian herbal nonsense', and Rowan was out in the cold again. He doesn't like it there, Olivia. He did what he did, this past week, because he wants to feel close to you again." Felicia looked Olivia squarely in the eye. "He should not be punished for it."

"The way he went about it…"

"… Was to get your attention, and the only way he knew to break free of the patriarchy he's being trying to gain acceptance and inclusion his whole life; when all they gave him in return was disrespect and hate. His first day in law school, they put a noose on his desk; they told him to clean their shoes; they made monkey noises when he opened his mouth to speak. These rich white boys who think they invented manners and civility treated Rowan like that. When he beat all those crackers to get to the top of the class – they said it was because of affirmative action. He bested those boys at every turn and he was made to feel inferior. Do you have any idea what that's like, Olivia?"

"Yes, Felicia, I know exactly what that's like," Olivia returned with quiet dignity.

"Yes, you made it to the top working twice as hard to be half as good, then even better. You can thank your father for that. The hugs and kisses you wanted as a little girl, your father never got as a little boy. But what he never got made him stronger, and that is the gift he gave you. You need to remember that."

Felicia got to her feet. "Next time you want to champion your husband over your own father. Just ask yourself this: What has your man done to improve the lot of our people, besides the tokenism of making you his wife? At least your father tried to help the homeless, Olivia, and you know half of all people living on the street are black."

Felicia walked to the door just as it opened and Fitz barged in, only to stop abruptly before he crashed into the other woman.

"Felicia."

"Fitzgerald."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine." Then tilting her chin a little higher, Felicia said, "I was just leaving."

Fitz stared over her shoulder at a silent Olivia, then side-stepped to move towards his wife, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Olivia stood slowly. "I need to pee."

"Livvie…"

"I'll see you back at the marquee." She reached up to touch his cheek, then moved away.

* * *

><p>When Olivia stepped into the Cross Hall to return to the marquee, she found Oscar waiting for her, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.<p>

"At your service, m'lady." He straightened and bowed, then extended his arm. "I'm here to escort you back to the festivities."

Olivia wrinkled her nose as she slipped her hand through his arm. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. Cyrus looked about ready to go off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The man is jealous for no reason. I don't want James' lilywhite ass."

Olivia chuckled. "Jealousy isn't a sensible emotion."

"Talking from experience?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Then let's talk about something else."

They walked in silence until Oscar glanced at Olivia. "Heavy thoughts. Want to share your burden?"

"Do you think I'm being too hard on my dad?"

"Yes." He shot back, then smiled briefly. "You asked, honey."

"He's not an easy man to be around."

"There's many things a parent does to prepare their child to go into the world alone, but the hardest thing that a black parent has to do is to make their children ready for a world that wants to keep them down, mostly 6 feet under."

He glanced at Olivia. "You know I ain't lying. We give our lives to protect the freedoms of a country that has enslaved us for 200 years. That ain't easy to live with. When your daddy talks about privilege, he ain't talking about the helping hand that whites give each other; he's talking about the wealth that was built on our blood. It ain't easy for any man to see their precious child taken by a man who represents the folk who kept us in chains then made us beggars and criminals when were we free."

"Fitz is not to blame for all that."

"He may not be to blame but he has benefited, babe, and he's in a position to make reparations. Not as an ordinary man who loves an extraordinary woman but as a president who believes justice is for all not just a few."

"He's trying, Oscar. You know he is. Fitz made Zeke vice president."

"Honey, Zeke is less of a threat to Fitz that that crazy lady Sally Langston. Just because the optics look good doesn't mean we have a seat at the massa's table."

* * *

><p>The moment Olivia entered the marquee with Oscar, Fitz gaze zeroed in on her. He broke away from his group, heading towards her, as Oscar slipped away.<p>

"Everything okay?" Fitz murmured, slipping an arm around her.

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

"Livvie, what's wrong?" His arm tightened around her.

She drew back and smiled. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

He studied her face, then invited huskily, "Dance with me."

She went willingly, wanting him to hold her. They blended in with the other couples dancing to the smooth music of the live jazz orchestra.

"This is my excuse to hold you," Fitz murmured, abandoning the standard waltzing pose to gather her in his arms.

"We're not at a club." Olivia smiled as she linked her arms around his neck.

"Sure we are, our very own White House club; privileged access."

Olivia's mood dimmed.

"What's wrong?" He frowned.

"Nothing." Then seeing Rowan on the dance floor with Felicia, she said abruptly, "Fitz, I'd like to dance with my dad."

He raised a brow but didn't say a word as he manoeuvred them closer and interrupted the other couple by blandly inviting Felicia to dance.

The other woman nodded, and put her hand stiffly in Fitz's, leaving Rowan and Olivia facing each other awkwardly.

"Dad."

"Olivia."

Then just when she began regretting her impulse Rowan held out his hand and drew her cautiously into a dance.

"I believe this is the first time you've danced with me, Olivia. I didn't get to dance with you on your wedding day."

"No," Olivia murmured, trying to relax.

"Was this Fitzgerald's idea?"

"No. Mine."

"I see."

Olivia felt her father's shoulders relax and some of the tension left her own body.

They danced in silence until Rowan cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Were you feeling sick just now? Is that why you had to leave?"

"No, I just needed to use the restroom."

"I see." Another pause. "So you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay," Then taking a deep breath, she murmured, "I miss your ginger tea."

"You do?"

"I do."

"What about the midwife?"

Olivia shrugged.

There was another pause, then with a glimmer of a smile, Rowan said, "I suppose I could start making the tea again."

"I'd like that."

* * *

><p>Olivia looked up from placing her earrings in the jewellery box to see Fitz leaning against the door watching her.<p>

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

"Tell me what happened tonight."

"We served dinner, our guests had a good time and we avoided an international crisis."

"You danced with your dad."

"And I danced with my dad." She agreed, before disappearing into the dressing room.

Fitz followed. When she tried to reach for the zipper at the back of her dress, he came and took over, then made her shiver when his breath feathered her neck. "Tell me you're not avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you." She moved away keeping her back firmly turned as she replaced the dress with a robe, before heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Several minutes later Fitz walked, in dressed in a T-shirt and shorts.

"So this is you not avoiding me?" he asked drily, taking the tube of toothpaste out of her hand.

Olivia stuck the toothbrush into her mouth and feigned a puzzled look.

He tugged the brush out of her mouth with a half-playful, half-serious expression. "I'm not letting this go, Liv."

Olivia stared at the brush in his hand, then turned and took a brand new brush from a drawer, broke the covering and resumed brushing her teeth.

Fitz stared at her, with exasperation joining the other emotions on his face, before he stuck Olivia's toothbrush in his mouth and began to brush his teeth.

"Eww!"

"What?"

"That was in my mouth!"

"I've been in your mouth and you've been in mine." He stuck the brush back in his mouth and grinned.

She looked at that wicked grin and the mischief in his eyes, and asked softly, "Would you have married me if Big Jerry was still around?"

"What?'

"Simple 'yes' or 'no' question, Fitz: would you have married me if your father was still around?"

Fitz rinsed the brush, then his mouth before turning to face her. "Where is this coming from, Olivia?"

"I just need to know if you'd have married the descendant of a slave if your father was against it?"

Fitz looked taken aback, then he lowered his brows and stared at her for a long moment. "Are we having another Sally Hemings-Thomas Jefferson conversation, Olivia? Or am I on trial here for the sins of my forefathers?"

"So you admit there were sins?"

Fitz looked at her, then shook his head and moved away from the vanity, heading out the door.

Olivia quickly rinsed her mouth and rushed out to see Fitz taking spare blankets and a pillow from the shelves.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"You said you wanted to talk."

"I wanted to talk about us- you and me, Olivia, not the past couple of centuries."

Olivia watched him walk out to the adjoining living room. She stood in the doorway as he turned the couch into a makeshift bed. When he turned off the lamp, she shut the door and crawled into the king-sized bed, which felt strangely vast and alien without Fitz to cuddle next to.

The minutes ticked by close to an hour before Olivia gave up any pretence of sleep and walked into the living room.

"Are you asleep?" she asked into the darkness.

"Yes."

A smile curving her lips, she moved to the couch, and sat on his arm.

"What—!"

"Ssh." She sidled in next to Fitz, then reached for his arms and placed them around her.

"Livvie…" he groaned, his arms tightening around her.

"Pretend this is all a dream. We can go back to fighting in the morning."

In the next instant he'd reached over to turn on the lamp, and he half sat blinking at her, his curls in disarray. Smiling she reached up to comb it back, but he caught and returned her hand to his chest.

"What just happened?"

"I missed you."

"Livvie, what happened before, with us?"

"I just wanted you to see me."

"I do see you. You're beautiful, brilliant and I love you, even when you're driving me crazy."

"I need you to see me as a black woman living in a white world."

"I do see that, Livvie. You know I do."

"And your answer is to put me in bubble wrap and get Tom to keep the nasties away. But you can't keep doing that. You have to realise our child will have an easier journey through this life the more she looks like you, than me. You need to prepare our child for that world, but first you need to open your eyes and see what it's about."

"Right now? Can we get some sleep first?"

Olivia smiled, laying her head on his chest and slipping her arms around him.

He pressed a kiss onto her forehead, then said gruffly, "Your father turned you into a tough little warrior princess and my father turned me into a shell of a man who didn't believe I was good at anything. I don't want to repeat the sins of our fathers, Livvie."

"Our fathers had different intentions. Mine was to protect me, yours couldn't stand the fact that you were better than he was and would always be."

Fitz tightened his arms around her. "You saw who I am, and told me I needed to show the rest of them what you see in me."

"You did show them."

"With the help of Defiance, Ohio."

"You would have showed them anyway. And you'll show them again this November."

He stroked a thumb over her cheek and kissed her gently. "The answer is yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Livvie, I'd have married you because there was never any doubt in my mind that I wanted you in my life. No matter what."

Olivia snuggled closer, lifting her mouth to his but Fitz broke-away mid-kiss to ask gruffly, "Are we having a little girl?"

"What?"

"You said 'she' – are we having a little girl?"

"I don't know, Fitz. It just came out that way. She might be a 'he'."

"I'd like a girl. A little mini you."

"What if she's a mini Professor Pope."

"I'll get Jerry to babysit."

Olivia gurgled a laugh.

Grinning Fitz kissed her and kissed her again before muttering against her lips, "Livvie…?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Do we have to stay all night on the couch?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I was going to do my usual thing of meandering blissfully through the minefields of reality with trite references, then one of my lovely reviewers Clio1792 sent me the following link:**

**features/archive/2014/05/the-case-for-reparations/361631/**

**As I know Fanfiction will swallow up the URL, see _The Case for Reparations_ , a beautiful and heart-wrenching article written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, published in The Atlantic, May 21, 2014**

**After reading that, I wanted to be a little less trite about the minefields of reality. I know Rowan isn't liked by some of my readers, but some of you understand where he's coming from.**

**I live in Australia – where Aboriginal Australians are denigrated and abused. I have read their history and I marvel at the resilience of these people who've had their lives and land taken, their culture destroyed, their families stolen and their rights subjugated. There is no therapy offered to entire groups of people who have been abused by another.**

**Rowan was always meant to be my representation of what I understood (but have not experienced) about Slavery in America; of how a man has to be hard in order to avoid the hurt he knows has been done to his people in the past. This chapter was my response to the Coates' article that reparations are a small gesture in comparison to all that's been taken and lost. That was the reasoning behind this chapter.**

**Now back to my usual triteness ;)**

**Thank you all so much for the lovely comments, hehehe – I know I'm among like-minded friends who don't like reading about psycho-sociopaths ;)**

**I have gone for a longer chapter – felt it's the least I can do considering how long I'm taking to write now :/. I am so sorry to keep you waiting but the brain cells are holidaying on a Tropical Island while the body is stuck in rainy flu-inducing Melbourne. Not fair!**

**BTW, someone [anonymous] asked me not to jump the shark – I've stopped watching the show because it's so non-Olitz, but I have to say in my last story I killed Mellie and that was a leap too far over a shark for some readers. All I can promise is that this story will always be Olitz centric. Beyond that, my plots will vary according to my rate of sleep deprivation. So keep the chocolate and cute animals jifs/gifs at hand.**

**Also I keep inserting reality sound bites into the story in a totally unrealistic way, so I'm glad you are going on this ride despite all that ;) and the lack of smut (although I have to admit I am seriously inspired by the porn I occasionally I get on my Tumlbr dash but I still find it difficult to translate the images into words without giggling like a twit)**

**Some reality checks for this chapter : India has a new Prime Minister, but this is based on the previous Prime Minister's visit to US in 2009. There were a lot more articles I could plagiarise!**

**Also I have no idea how one enters from the South Lawn to the White House and if the Green Room is the nearest logical choice (BTW, do these rooms have bathrooms? Where do State Dinner guests go to pee?) so I kind of made stuff up based on the last article on the list below!**

**Anyway here are the references, that inspired me :**

**Michelle Obama, Jill Biden, Hillary Clinton Don Indian-Inspired Ensembles At Arrival Ceremony (PHOTOS) (X)**

**2State dinner (X)**

**White House Facts › The White House State Dinner (X)**

**The White House's Dinner Theater (X)**

**OH and Defiance really existed but not as Defiance! **

**Diebold's Political Machine (X)**

**Chelsea Clinton paid up to $75K for speeches (X)**

**List of Indian Americans (X)**

**Google: Don't Be Evil, Don't Pay Tax (X)**

**Excerpt: "Most of the major financial institutions and internet companies have currently got big problems in India. They're spending millions and millions in litigation," India is the most aggressive country in the world when it comes to asserting its right to tax.**

**Read full story: feature/google-dont-be-evil-dont-pay-tax/261/**

**NFIA Press Release for State Dinner at White House (X)**

**Obama's first state dinner blends pageantry with politics (X)**

**Obama hosted one of the best dinners: Manmohan (X)**

**Breaking Bread with Barack Obama (X)**

**A Walk on the White House Lawn (X)**


	37. The Problem with Boys

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. Some owners are more humane creatively than others. Guess which one applies here…**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Promise me you'll take your naps and drink your tea." Fitz stroked a thumb over Olivia's hand with a faint smile on his lips.<p>

"Duh!"

"Okay, now that Teddy has spoken. Let's hear your promise, Liv." Fitz turned his smiling gaze from the toddler on Olivia's lap, back to her.

"With my Dad watching, you know I'll have to."

"Promise."

"Okay, promise."

"And that you'll ground Jerry if he gets out of hand."

"Jeez, Dad, you're only going for a week. How much trouble do you think I can get into?"

Fitz and Olivia turned to stare at Jerry in a synchronised move that made him sink down in his seat, cross his arms and mutter, "Can you just kiss and leave already. I'll be late for school."

"What about me, Daddy?" Karen sat forward. "What does Mom have to do with me?"

"You?" Fitz grinned, leaning closer to cup her face and kiss her forehead. "I don't have to worry about you, pumpkin, because you are my best little girl."

Then he grabbed Jerry, kissing his cheek loudly before letting him go.

"Are you going to kiss Mom now?" Jerry made a production of wiping his cheek.

"Yes."

"Quick evacuate! Barf time!" Jerry grabbed Karen's hand and pulled her out of the Presidential limousine, slamming the door shut. Only to open it again a second later and take Teddy from Olivia's grasp. "The little dude doesn't need to see that stuff either."

"Wait! Fitz hasn't said goodbye to Teddy yet." Olivia cautioned, supporting the squirming toddler so Fitz could give him a kiss before Jerry hauled him out.

As the door closed a second time, Olivia melted against Fitz with a soft laugh. He wrapped her in his arms for a long silent moment, until she murmured softly, "It's only a week, baby."

He drew back to trace the shape of her lips with his thumb. "I don't want you to fix anything dangerous while I'm gone."

"Cotton wool, Fitz."

"Extra fluffy, Livvie."

She bit his wandering thumb playfully. When his eyes darkened in response, she drew back slightly. "Behave. We don't want to traumatise the Secret Service by making out in the back."

He looked at her solemnly.

Laughing, Olivia grabbed his chin and pulled him close for a kiss, just as the phone rang beside Fitz to alert him it was time to board Air Force One.

* * *

><p>With Fitz gone, Olivia felt empty and the day seemed long even though she'd filled it with meetings with her staff, a trip to a local school to talk to students about the importance of high achievement, and a live taping on a talk show about her new hairstyle.<p>

Then when she'd finally run out of things to do, her assistant came in while Olivia was staring into space, and said, "Ma'am, Anna Wintour of Vogue is on the phone again about the covershoot for the October issue. And, uh, Karen Grant is outside. She wants to make an appointment to speak to you. "

Olivia sat up. "Karen? My daughter Karen?"

Her assistant nodded.

"I'll see Karen now."

"What about Ms Wintour."

"Tell her I'll get back to her."

"Ma'am, Cyrus wants you to do the shoot as the magazine comes out a month before elections. The publicity would help."

"Cyrus is excited about Vogue? Why? Do its readers even vote? We're not talking Time magazine."

"Ma'am, I buy Vogue and I vote." Her assistant paused before adding, "It's what Cyrus wants and Ms Wintour doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"I'll get back to her. Send Karen in five. I need to make a call first."

After her assistant had departed, Olivia rang through to the kitchen. Her call was picked up on the first ring.

"Ma'am, we've got chocolate cupcakes with horseradish cream or would you like the barbeque-ribs with caramel sauce?"

Olivia grinned. "Are there any Alfajores left? Can we get a plate for Karen with a strawberry milkshake made from real strawberries just the way she likes? Oh and I'll have a couple of the ribs."

She was placing the receiver back when the door opened and her assistant announced, "Your next appointment is here, ma'am."

"Send her in." Olivia walked up to the door as Karen entered, looking a little hesitant. "Hey, Baby K, this is a surprise."

Karen stood in front of Olivia, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were waiting for bad news. "It's not 'Baby K', it's Karen. I'm not here as your daughter, I'm here as one of your consti-tu-ents."

Listening to each syllable emerge carefully, Olivia bit back a smile and said solemnly, "I don't have constituents. I'm not an elected member of government."

"Oh…So who do you have?"

"A daughter."

"Mom." Karen wrinkled her nose, a reluctant smile peeking.

"Okay, you can be a rep for an interest group. They see me, because they want me to speak to Fitz . Is that what you want me to do – speak to Dad for you?"

Karen shook her head. "Jerry said you fixed things when you came to see him at school."

Olivia's radar went on high alert, and she reached for Karen's hand, leading her over to the couch. Just as they sat down, the door opened and a White House staffer came in carrying a tray.

Karen's eyes widened. "My favourite cookies and milkshake!"

"For a very special visitor."

Karen giggled sliding along the couch to cuddle up to Olivia. "I'm a very special visitor?"

"The special-est". Olivia hugged Karen to her. "So what's this about, Baby K-ar-en." She brushed Karen's hair back with gentle fingers. "Why did you want to make an appointment to see me? You know you can talk to me any time. Is someone being mean to you at school?"

Karen didn't respond instantly. She waited before saying softly, "Why do people listen to boys more than they listen to girls?"

"Are you talking about what's been happening with Jerry?"

"All the cool girls in school want to be friends with me because Jerry's my brother. They think he's gorgeous. I don't think any of them like me for me."

"Do you like any of the girls who want to be friends with you because of Jerry?'

Karen shook her head.

"Then the next time they want you to do something with them, say 'no'"

"I don't want to be mean."

"It isn't being mean, honey, it's keeping your choices pure. If you keep saying 'yes' when you really want to say 'no', your brain gets confused about what it wants. Then you'll only say 'yes' to the things and people you don't like and you won't have time for the people you do like."

Karen stayed silent leaning against Olivia.

After a long pause, Olivia said, "Now we know the people you don't like, is there anyone you do like?"

Karen angled a shy glance at Olivia. "There's a boy…"

* * *

><p>"Are you resting?" His voice sounded clear and strong on the line, like he was in the room with her, instead of half a world away.<p>

"Yes."

"You're lying."

"Yes."

"Livvie."

"Fitz."

"Karen likes a boy."

"What?! What's his name? Where does he live?"

"Fitz, he's a nice boy."

"You've met him."

"No, I checked his Facebook profile. Plus, I got Abby and Quinn to check him out at school and the neighbourhood. He's okay."

"Has Tom checked him out?"

"I am not going to have a 14-year-old boy investigated by the Secret Service."

"He's _fourteen_?"

"He's a friend of Jerry's. They take turns watching out for Karen, to make sure she doesn't get picked on in school."

"Huh."

"Don't worry about this. I think Karen's trying to move on because Peter's been posting pictures with the same girl on Instagram. He seems to have found a girlfriend."

"_Pete_? … _Our _Pete?"

"Fitz, don't worry about it. We'll talk about all this when you get home. … Fitz?"

"I didn't know any of this was going on with Karen."

"Because we're always focusing on the job and Jerry. Karen felt she had to make an appointment to get my undivided attention. When you get back, I think you should take Karen out on a Daddy and daughter date."

"Maybe I can get her to show me where Jerry's friend lives."

"Fitz."

"What?"

"You're the President. You can't go around intimidating teenagers."

"You're right. Let me speak to your dad."

"Fitz!"

"She's only eight!"

"I know, baby, but she's going on nine. Our little girl is growing up."

There was a longer silence.

"Mr Pres-i-dent…" Olivia teased.

A laugh gusted into Olivia's ear. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I'm meeting the Japanese Prime Minister in twenty minutes."

""Fitz…" Olivia lowered her voice. "I'm taking a bath."

He rumbled a sigh. "This is cruel and not-unusual punishment."

"Poor baby."

"I hate you."

Olivia giggled. "You don't want to offend the Japanese with that attitude." When he didn't respond, she said, "Fitz…?"

"Keep talking. I can almost pretend you're here in this room with me."

* * *

><p>Olivia was just leaving her office in the East Wing when she got a call from Quinn.<p>

"Busy?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "What's happened?"

"Can you make it to Abby's?"

"Will David Rosen be there?"

"I think they're off again. I can't keep up, but no."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do."

An hour later, dressed casually in jeans, sweatshirt with a cap pulled low over her face, Olivia made a discreet entrance into Abby's building. By her side were two similarly clad female agents, giving the impression that the three of them were returning home after an early evening run.

They took the service elevator to Abby's floor. At the agents' knock, Quinn cracked the door open, then turned back into the room and hissed loudly, "The Eagle has landed!"

She checked the corridor right and left, before pulling Olivia inside and shutting the door in the agents' faces.

Olivia sighed, took her arm out of Quinn's grasp, opened the door and said, "Come in."

"They can't come in," Quinn hissed.

Abby stepped forward. "For once I agree with her. This isn't Lindsay's usual paranoia. We shouldn't have an audience for this."

The agents exchanged a glance. "We need to check the place if you want us to stay outside." At Abby's nod, they stepped inside, with one of them murmuring in passing, "The Eagle landed on the moon."

Quinn poked her tongue out at the agent's back, but swiftly masked her expression when they glanced back.

Once the agents were satisfied that no threats lurked in the closet or under the bed, they left the apartment to wait outside, practising their stretching exercises. After the door had shut behind them, Olivia faced her associates and asked, "What's going on?"

From his perch on the edge of Abby's couch, Huck took a sheaf of photographs from a manila envelope and spread them on the coffee table. "Edison has started campaigning for Reston."

"I've been expecting that. Is that why you got me down here?"

"No, we just wanted to say 'hi'," Abby rolled her eyes. "Liv, we don't care if your Ex is in bed with a murderer – metaphorically speaking."

"But we do care when he's best buds with _two_ murderers!" Quinn spat, snatching up a picture lying in the middle of the pile and thrusting it in Olivia's face. "Edison is working with Reston _and Hollis Doyle_!"

Olivia sat down slowly.

"You know what this means, right?" Huck asked grimly.

Olivia nodded, saying the word in a chorus with the other women, "_Defiance_."

* * *

><p>"Edison, Reston and Hollis – that's what I'd call an unholy trinity."<p>

Cyrus shook his head at Olivia. She'd managed to catch him in his office later that evening when she returned from Abby's. He said he'd gone home to have dinner with James and Ella, but returned to the White House to catch up on some paperwork.

"Time to start planning my retirement and a long vacation. The timing couldn't be better. James wants to adopt another baby so Ella has someone to relate to besides two gay white men who can't dance."

Hands on hips, Olivia stood in front of Cyrus and glared. "So that's your solution, to bail on Fitz when he needs you most?!"

"Fitz is bailing on himself. That bullet in his brain did more damage than either of us realised. And your 'stand-by-your-man' routine isn't helping him see sense. Politics is no place for idealism, not unless you want to end up a carcass of failure, feeding the vultures of self-interest and greed. In the Coliseum on Capitol Hill, they are baying for blood and come November, Fitz will get thrown to the lions."

"Leadership takes courage. It's not about pleasing the majority in Congress."

"Can we start by pleasing the campaign donors? The really big ones that have the power to break our balls?" Cyrus leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. "Oh what I'd give to be President, but I could never _be _President. I'm old and I'm gay. The latter eclipses the sun of all my other attributes. Instead I wait in the wings hoping for a protégé to step up without self-combusting."

Olivia paced in front of Cyrus' desk, her arms crossed over her chest. "Why did you want Fitz to win? To give you street cred as a king maker? To give the Republican agenda another term? To be puppet master? Why?"

"I can't remember."

"That's the problem with living in the gated community of the White House – you forget the ideals that brought you here. Now you just want to maintain a status quo that never included you. You're still a member of the Republican Party, a party that doesn't like gays or blacks. Next time you want to tell Fitz to blend in with the bourgeoisie just remember that Fitz isn't like that. He opened his heart to both of us. It's time you stopped thanking him with a slap in his face."

"Olivia, wake up and smell the dung heap of reality. Hollis got Fitz a victory. Now that he's joined the Reston apparatchik , Fitz can kiss a second term goodbye. He's not going to win against Defiance II."

"I'll talk to Hollis."

"And tell him what?"

"I'll think of something."

* * *

><p>Olivia ran into Zeke on her way out of Cyrus' office.<p>

"Howdy," Zeke grinned, tipping his rawhide Stetson. "What's this I hear about our First Lady becoming a Vogue cover girl?"

"I haven't said yes."

"It's Vogue, hon."

"Yes, that banner of diversity," Olivia said drily. "I'm so honoured."

Zeke chuckled. "Cy's already told the Gift store downstairs to pre-order the October issue."

Olivia glanced at Zeke, with Hollis Doyle on her mind.

Seeing her distracted smile, Zeke said, "Got a problem? Is it the size of Jerry or your dad?"

Olivia glanced over her shoulder.

"Right," Zeke nodded. "Step this way." He led her to his office, next to Cyrus and switching on the lights. Then closing the door, he said, "I feel this is going to need a team effort, am I right?"

Olivia silently debated an appropriate response.

"Hon, just because I invited your dad to dinner without telling you, doesn't mean you need to stop trusting me." Then at her wry glance, he grinned. "Don't give me the side-eye, you know it's true."

She sighed. "I need to meet someone but I don't want anyone to know I'm meeting him."

All humour fled Zeke's face as he leaned against his walking stick and said softly, "Oh, now you have just gone and broken my heart. I thought you and Fitz were the real deal. I want no part in this, if you're about to go creeping with Mr Ivy League Edison."

"Edison?" Olivia frowned in confusion, then realising what Zeke was implying, she snapped, "No! This is business." Olivia paused. "I need to speak to Tom."

"Uh-uh," Zeke straightened up, shaking his head. "The man's job is protecting Fitz's ass, not yours. So you tell me who you want to meet with and I'll see what I can do."

"Huck can tell you. In fact, he'll show you where to find him."

"Gotcha." Zeke grinned. "Why don't you come to my place for a nightcap after the kids have gone to bed. You can tell Tom all about that."

* * *

><p>"Not sure the President would approve," Tom said mildly as he escorted Olivia from the Executive Residence to the vehicle that would take her to Number One Observatory Circle. "He's given us strict instructions about looking after you. A midnight run to Zeke's for a nightcap is not part of the plan."<p>

"You're looking after me, Tom." Olivia smiled. "And I'm sure the baby's having a nap, even if Mama isn't."

Tom shook his head as he took his seat beside her.

When they got to Zeke's, Olivia was escorted inside by Oscar. She barely had time to notice that the décor had taken on a distinctly non-Langston flavour with vibrant furnishings and African art, before she was ushered into one of the lounge rooms, while Tom and the agents waited in the corridor outside.

As the door closed swiftly behind her, she was surprised to find Zeke and Hollis sharing a laugh and a bottle of fine whisky. Fleetingly she had hoped to see Hollis gagged and tied to a chair in nothing but his underpants.

"Olivia," Hollis got to his feet a second after Zeke. "You are looking mighty fine and fresh for someone in your condition." He waved his glass in the general direction of Olivia's stomach.

"My _pregnant_ condition?"

"Will you be fine with Mr Doyle, Liv?"

"Oh, now all my friends call me Hollis. Ain't that right, Olivia?"

"I'll be fine, Zeke." Olivia took the seat that Zeke had vacated on his way out of the room. Once the door shut, Olivia faced Hollis.

"It's been a long time."

"It has," Hollis smiled at her, lazily swirling the ice in his glass.

"You've been meeting with Reston."

His grin widened. "I always did like a woman who cut to the chase. Let's me know I don't need to waste my time on foreplay." He paused to take a sip from his glass before adding, "Yes, it's true that I have shared a number of this country's finest spirits with the Governor of Maryland. As I have done with the Vice President of the United States. You could say that I am a man of bi-partisan interests. Just like Fitzy Boy. The man is a gotdamn inspiration."

"Reston knows about Defiance."

Hollis barely blinked. "Does he now? That is a shame, I wanted to surprise him with an early Christmas present."

"Why Reston?" Olivia asked.

"The question should be why not Reston. The man would be President now if I hadn't stepped in and done God's work. It's time for me to make reparations for that."

"Reston isn't what this country needs."

Hollis looked at Olivia with apparent amusement, but the blood was rising in his neck. "We need Reston. What we don't need is some damned socialists in government. Capitalism built the wealth in this country, Olivia. It's what my daddy and his grand-daddy fought and died for. And I like counting my gotdamn money in my gotdamn sleep. It helps me dream with a smile on my face. Fitzy Boy's plans for wealth re-distribution is giving me gotdamn nightmares!"

"Hollis, we don't have socialists in government."

"Olivia, that baby brain of yours is affecting your gut. You are knee-deep in socialists and drowning fast. Fitzy Boy is trying to turn the city's iconic buildings into homeless shelters and raise the gotdamn minimum wage. Then there's your daddy giving free legal advice to the Indian government on how to fight its water wars with Big Soda."

"All my father did was to mention a paper he wrote on the legal points surrounding the issue. That paper was published ten years ago."

"It's still gotdamned relevant! Capitalism is under attack and your Daddy is white-anting our defences from the inside!"

"Because it's impacting the drinking water and irrigation systems in India."

"Hell, tell the gotdamn Indians to buy bottled water like I do. Or get a soda – it's cheaper than the unfiltered filth that falls from the gotdamn sky! And before you go on about soda companies taking water from the poor to sell their products cheap and make our kids sick here in the good ole US of A, let me tell you that the best gotdamn thing about Capitalism is _choice_. You can _choose_ to buy a bottle of whatever you want, and you can _choose_ to sign a contract with a soda company that creates jobs and builds some gotdamn roads for your people to get to those jobs. The fact that they didn't read the fine print is not our problem. They made the choice now they've gotta live with it!"

"You don't live with yours."

"What?"

"Five ex-wives, Hollis."

Hollis glanced away, gritting his jaw. "That's not the same thing."

"Yes, it is. Buyer beware applies to love among capitalists. You've been through five divorces to rectify your bad choices. India is going through its first. Or maybe its second with regards to the water wars. I would have thought you'd be more sympathetic."

Hollis looked at Olivia, then he drained his glass and set it on the occasional table with a thunk. "It's getting late. It's past my bed-time, and yours."

"It is," Olivia smiled and got to her feet leisurely. "We must do this again."

Hollis forced a smile to his lips as he got to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I've gotta say that I'm going to miss you when you and Fitzy Boy leave for that farm in Virginia. Is it too early to give my order for jam?"

"Not at all. I know just the right flavour for you – something with habanero and spice," Olivia said sweetly.

This time the smile on his face was genuine. "Like I said, Olivia, I sure as Sam Hill am going to miss having you in the White House."

"Fitz is not down for the count just yet. I'd wait and see before breaking out the champagne."

* * *

><p>When Olivia finally made it to bed, she stacked the pillows just the way she liked it, then stared at the phone willing it to ring.<p>

It didn't.

She gave it another ten minutes before she grabbed the phone and sent a text, with a single word, 'Hi'.

In the next instant, the phone rang.

"Hi," His voice was husky and soft over the phone.

"I miss you."

After a brief silence, he replied gruffly, "I miss you too. I just got out of a meeting and I've been sitting here talking myself out of calling and waking you up."

Olivia smiled. "So the blow up doll I packed for you, isn't working?"

He laughed. "Livvie, I'm glad I don't have to go through security with the things you surprise me with, and no, a plastic doll isn't doing it for me. It doesn't snore."

Olivia snuffled a laugh, curling up with the phone against her ear, hugging herself in Fitz's Navy T-shirt.

After a long pause, she heard his sigh filter across continents. "Livvie, why did you go to Zeke's?"

That brought her up to sitting position. "Fitz, is Tom giving you real time updates of my movements? Have they bugged my shoes or is it my clothes?"

"Neither. I asked Tom to give me a daily report before he leaves for the night, that's all. It's for my own peace of mind. I need to know you're safe." He waited, then said softly, "Liv…?"

"Hollis is joining Reston's campaign. I wanted to speak to him. In private." She waited for a response, when it wasn't forthcoming she said, "Fitz… I didn't want to tell you over the phone, baby. Are you okay?"

"Livvie," his voice deepened. "Right here, right now. I'm glad that Reston will be stepping into my shoes. I'm tired of this job keeping us apart."

Olivia slowly settled back against the pillows. "You want to be Mayor of Vermont and I can make jam."

"I was thinking you could be mayor, and I'd make jam. That way I'd be sure the house won't burn down."

"I hope you have plans to take your doll to dinner because you'll be spending a lot of time with her."

"I'm kinda looking forward to that – you, me and Mimi."

Giggling Olivia said, "Mimi? Well, it'll be just you and _Mimi_ because I won't be in that equation."

"You say that now, but just wait until I get home…"

She smiled. "I'm waiting, baby."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, to those who've recovered from the PTSDWR (please-take-strong-drink-while-reading) of the last chapter. This one is not too deep. Well, as shallow as I can make it without sex to make it interesting ;)))**

**I have to say that I loved the reviews, though people are still mad at Rowan and Felicia, with Oscar added to the mix. But I shall persevere in the hope that one day, some day they too will get the love they deserve (*sniff*, my babies).**

**But enough of that, I chose to include a reference about the real-life Coca-Cola and Pepsi's soda (legal) wars in India after seeing a Tumblr post about soda being cheaper than water. So here it is in my story, instead of a long Tumblr rant – really they did warn me that I'd get crankier with old age, but who knew I'd enjoy it so much!**

**If you're interested in reading more in order to join the cranky-skirt club, here goes:**

**Coca-Cola and Water Use in India: "Good Till the Last Drop" (X)**

**Coke 'drinks India dry' (X)**

**Tax a Cola, Save the Planet (X)**

**Oh and if you want to know about time differences when fictional presidents travel, here's a good website:**

**The World Clock – Time Zone Converter – results (X)**


	38. A Week Without Fitz

**Disclaimer: Shondaland and ABC own these characters. Ugh! **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>DAY TWO…<strong>

She dreamt of his lips on her skin, waking when her fingers raked over the cold softness of the pillow, instead of his thick curls. Olivia groaned, pushing the pillow away.

It was Day Two without Fitz

She lay there for a moment, wanting to pull the covers over her head and return to her dreams. But her bladder had other ideas. Shrinking daily with Baby Grant's presence, it had her staggering out of bed towards the bathroom.

While washing her hands, she stared at the mirror picturing his reflection; his eyes distracted while he shaved, watching her brushing her teeth or straightening her hair. Sighing her reached for the toothbrush, then smiled remembering how they'd fought over it.

Much later, after Olivia had showered, dressed and was semi-prepared to face the day, she opened the door to find all four dogs waiting outside for her.

They gave little barks of greeting wagging their tails, swarming around her in their eagerness to be first to get her good morning pat. Once received, they trotted off, in search of other priorities.

"Rascally rascals." Olivia smiled to herself, turning to close the door. Only then seeing the notes stuck on the panelling. One from Jerry saying, "Gone to the torture chamber. See ya later, Mom, if I survive. Love you. XO Jerry."

Below that note was another note, "See you after school, Mom. Love you. XXXXX Not-a-baby K."

She was taking down the notes, intending to put them away in her keepsake box, when she saw Rowan coming down the hallway with a tray in his hands.

"Dad, I just woke up."

"You want me to come back?" Rowan paused.

"I meant this is really good timing."

Rowan hesitated then said, "I knew when those mongrels went running past that you were awake."

"I'm not feeling nauseous today."

"Have you changed your mind about the tea?"

"No." Olivia forced a smile as she walked back into the sitting room of the main suite.

They sat on opposite couches in silence, Olivia drinking tea and Rowan watching her. Just when she felt the urge to speak, Rowan said abruptly, "You heard about that kid who got shot?"

Olivia froze, cup midway to her lips.

Softening his tone, Rowan added, "It's another death by police. A cop shot a kid, walking home from the shops."

Olivia placed the cup back in its saucer. "Another one? How many is that?"

"Too many. This young man who was about to start college next week."

Olivia shook her head, reaching for the remote to turn on the news, then quickly channel hopped shaking her head. "Surprise, surprise the media isn't talking about this – so my guess we're talking about a black kid."

Rowan angled a look at her. "Olivia, you know we're talking about a black kid. White kids get a police escort home. Imagine if the kid was Jerry, even Russia and North Korea would be outraged."

Olivia switched off the television and crossed her arms across her chest. "So you're okay to attend the Housing Committee meeting today?"

Rowan eyed his daughter carefully. "Yes."

"Good."

"Are we playing ostrich, Olivia?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad."

* * *

><p>"You heard about that cop shooting a kid?" Rowan asked Zeke as they waited in the Old Family Dining Room for Olivia to arrive.<p>

"Yeah, that cracker made him kneel on the ground before he shot him. That damned kid had his arms in the air, but that didn't stop him from being dead." Zeke snapped the pencil in his hand.

Cyrus stared at the remains of the broken pencil before shifting his gaze to his own notepad. "By all credible accounts, he robbed a convenience store."

"That lie came straight out of that cracker's precinct. Gotta justify the killin' of another black kid by making him look a criminal. Justifying Police Brutality 101."

"Are you accusing the police of murder? Then lying as a cover up?"

"I ain't accusing, I'm telling!"

The Secretary for Housing and Urban Development sat forward. "We don't know all the facts yet. All we have are a couple of eyewitness accounts. "

"Yeah," agreed the senior staffer from Office of Management and Budget. "From the dead kid's friends."

"They were quick to accuse a cop of wrongdoing. You know how that works – blame the accuser to muddy the waters," added the executive from General Services Administration.

"Therefore, the friends are guilty of lying to distract our attention away from their culpability in a crime?" Rowan gave his widest Grinch smile. "Are you perhaps confusing current events with history when those white men killed Emmett Till and walked free?"

There was a silence, which was only broken when Olivia walked into the room and the men stood up noisily pushing back their chairs.

Olivia paused, eyeing each one of their faces warily. "Everything okay in here?"

There were mutterings of agreement and they all sat down again.

"You aren't black, Pete. The police won't be targeting you. It's Mom, Ella, my little baby sis or bro that I need to worry about."

"Yeah, tell that to the 84-year Chinese grandpa dude who got bashed by cops in New York for jaywalking in January. Those dogs are targeting all people of colour. Only white people are safe."

"Okay, so next time you see a cop run."

"Where to? They shoot you in the back if you run. They shoot you in the chest if you stand your ground. Basically you end up dead either way, man."

Olivia paused outside Jerry's room, hearing voices even though it was way past his bedtime. After a brief knock, she opened the door and poked her head through the opening. "Lights out, Jer. This is a school night."

Jerry shifted sideways so Olivia could see his computer screen. "Mom, Pete says 'hi'."

Olivia walked up and smiled at Peter waving at her by video. "'Hi, Pete and goodnight to you too'."

"Aw, Mom," Jerry griped as Pete immediately disappeared off the screen. "We were just talking about what was going on in Faraway County. About that kid getting shot for walking while black."

"Bedtime, Jer."

"Mom, he was just a kid. And he was going to college next week. Now he's dead. All because of the colour of his skin. That's not right."

"No, it isn't but there's not a lot you and I can do about it right now. So I need you to shut your computer and get some sleep because I don't want to have another conversation with your principle about why you're falling asleep in math class."

"It's boring. Why do I need algebra – it's not like I'll need it after I leave school. Like I don't see you and Dad using algebra ever."

"We use algebra all the time. We just don't talk about it because it's highly confidential."

Jerry grinned. "Good one, Mom."

"Goodnight. Jer. If you're not in bed by the time I count to three I'm going to switch the power off at the wall socket."

"That's so lame."

"One…two…"

"Jeeez, all right, all right. I'm going."

Jerry switched off the computer and crawled into bed, then grinned at her with Fitz's smile that took Olivia's breath away.

"What?"

"You look like your father."

Jerry pushed back the covers and loped over to gather Olivia in a tight hug. "Dad'll be home soon. " He buzzed a loud kiss on her cheek and then made her chuckle when he added, "You've got to admit, though, I'm better looking."

* * *

><p><strong>DAY THREE…<strong>

"Miss me?"

"Lots. And the kids miss you too. How's Mimi?"

"She's a good listener. Doesn't object to a single thing I say."

Olivia laughed. "I need to talk to that girl. She's very bad for your ego,"

Fitz rumbled a sigh. "I miss your laugh."

"Only my laugh?"

He gave a soft chuckle that sent a ripple of warmth over her. "When I get back, let's spend a weekend in Vermont, just you, me and the kids."

"And the dogs and the Secret Service."

"Yeah, one big happy family."

Olivia chuckled. "Okay."

"Just okay? No backchat? You've started channelling Mimi." He finished on a yawn.

Smiling, she said softly, "Goodnight, baby."

"Good morning, Livvie."

* * *

><p><strong>Morning Talk Show…<strong>

"_Today the White House released details of First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant's plans to turn vacant Federal buildings in downtown DC into homeless shelters."_

"_Bet that put her on the Business Council's Christmas wish list."_

"_You're right, they aren't happy about it. They say they'll start losing business when their clients get harassed by drunk vagrants."_

"_Worse, they think Ms Pope-Grant will get the District rezoned and property prices will nosedive as a result."_

"_Well, she's not backing down from her plans."_

"_You got that right. When Mrs Pope-Grant was asked what she thought about the Business Council's concerns, this is what she had to say: "We're talking about the men and women who fought for our freedom. Veterans who are now sleeping on the street. Is the Business Council of DC saying these veterans are good enough to die fighting for our freedom, but they aren't good enough to live in our neighbourhoods?"_

"_Bet that shut them up."_

"_Yeah, but not for long..."_

* * *

><p>That afternoon while Olivia was lounging on the sofa with her feet up, she got a call from Fitz.<p>

"Are you resting after taking on BCDC?"

Olivia laughed. "Hmm, that sounds scary."

"They are scary, Livvie, you need to be careful about how you handle them."

"Right now all I'm handling is a plate of monster cookies resting on my baby bump. There'll be a lot more of me to hold on to when you get back."

Fitz gusted a laugh. "I love the sound of that."

Olivia's response was cut short, when her assistant interrupted with a knock. "Ma'am, the Mayor wants to talk to you."

"Tell him I'm busy," Olivia took another bite of a cookie.

"What's going on?" Fitz asked over the phone.

"The Mayor wants to talk to me. But I can't coz' I'm busy talking to the President."

He chuckled. "Glad you've got your priorities right."

"Blame it my baby brain."

"Hey!" He laughed. Just as Olivia's assistant re-appeared with another knock. "Ma'am, he won't get off the phone. Says he really needs to talk to you because the Business Council has been at him all morning."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I've got to go, Fitz. The Mayor is being persistent."

"Persist right back, but be careful. I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>After speaking to the Mayor, Olivia took out her private phone and made a call. "I've got job for you guys."<p>

"Ooh, another super–secret-we-can't-reveal-to-anyone–on-pain-of-death type job?" Quinn hissed loudly in Olivia's ear.

"Yes."

"I love those! So what's the job?"

"I've got names. I need anything you can find on them."

"Dirt?"

"Dirtier the better."

"Dirt?!" A voice called in the background, then there was a sound of a scuffle and Abby's voice came on the line, "What's this I heard about dirt?"

Olivia briefly repeated her requirements for the names in question.

"So the usual drugs, hookers, bodies in the basement stuff?"

"I was thinking more like Swiss bank accounts and undeclared income on the 1040."

Abby sighed. "Oh, boring white collar tax evasion again. When do you want all this by?"

"Tomorrow. A.M."

"I better get Huck and Oscar off their current addiction."

"What's that? Warcraft?"

"Yeah, in real-life suburbia. They're rolling tanks into Small Town America, turning the whole place into a war zone because a kid got shot. Go figure."

* * *

><p><strong>DAY FOUR…<strong>

Olivia stared at her watch. Cyrus and Zeke were late. They'd planned to have a mini-briefing before the DC Mayor and Business Council representatives arrived. That had been 10 minutes ago.

Olivia headed down to the West Wing. Finding Cyrus' office empty, she turned direction when the sound of yelling drew her to Zeke's office next door.

"They've got tanks! What the fuck, man! Faraway County isn't downtown Fallujah – we don't need the army going down there attacking civilians!"

"They aren't attacking civilians, they are keeping the peace!"

"Whose peace?! White man's peace?!"

"Why does this always boil down to race with you?! Not everything is about _race_!"

"A white cop shoots a black kid and you're telling me it's not about _race_?!"

"The key words here are _cop_ and _kid_ – possibly a delinquent."

"Fuck you!"

"Hey!" Olivia opened the door and walked in to find Cyrus and Zeke glaring at each other, their noses a breath apart. "What's going on?"

Both men stepped away, looking slightly sheepish. Cyrus was the first to speak. "We were just talking about this morning's security briefing."

"Yeah, but we hadn't got to the part where the police were lobbing teargas at unarmed civilians."

"Or the rioting and the vandalism!" Cyrus spat.

Olivia held up her hands. "You both need to chill. This conversation is not good for your heart condition, Cyrus."

'This ain't no time to chill," Zeke shook his head. "When you've got the Law breaking the Law then it's time to step in and make some noise. The White House needs to issue a statement. We need to get the FBI onto this."

Cyrus glowered at Zeke. "We are _not_ issuing a statem_ent_ over a storm in a _tea_cup! This whole thing will blow over in a couple of days when another celebrity flashes her boobs and the media's attention deficit takes on that hot topic."

"The mainstream media isn't covering Faraway County; Social Media is. They ain't talking about the tanks, the cops in riot gear or the tear gas. They ain't talking about all that weaponry being targeted at a bunch of unarmed civilians, carrying protest signs. They ain't talking. So we need to."

Cyrus looked at Zeke wearily and sat down. "There's one elephant in this room that we don't talk about."

"The Republican Party?"

"No, _race_! Ever since Fitz went public about Olivia and then installed you as his deputy – the rabid Right-wing media has gone nuts about race! Fitz needs to be race neutral in the way he responds to social issues. Like the time Harvard University Professor Henry Louis Gates was mistakenly arrested in front of his home by a Massachusetts police officer investigating a neighbourhood break-in. Or when that other kid Trayvon Martin was shot in Florida by a Hispanic security guard; Fitz had to keep right out of those conversations. Do you know why? Let me tell you why – because if he mentions race, he knows he won't be the one catching flack. No, the bigots would be out in droves attacking Olivia. I've had to double the security budget because of all the hate mail we've been getting lately. "

"I didn't know that," Olivia sat down in the couch nearest the door.

"Fitz doesn't want you to know. He's sworn Tom to secrecy so he won't reveal the magnitude of the hatred that's out there for you, and for himself since he married you."

Zeke tapped his walking stick on the carpet. "So what you're saying is that we have to keep our eyes down and our mouths shut to avoid a media lynching? While black kids get shot by white cops walking down the street?"

Olivia got to her feet before Cyrus could open his mouth. "Zeke, stop. We can't rush into this and make the situation worse. Let me speak to Fitz. I'll talk to him tonight. With an election coming up and no party to back him up, we can't jeopardise what little chance he has of winning another term."

"We're not going to win a second term," Cyrus said tiredly, "There are too many odds against us."

Olivia quelled a flash of irritation as she turned towards the door. "I just came to remind you both about our little meeting with the Mayor and his cronies."

"Yeah, I nearly forgot about that." Zeke stepped forward.

"Yeah, me too," Cyrus scrambled to his feet, straightening his tie.

Olivia glanced from one to the other wryly, and shook her head. "You guys need a breather. Let me handle this. I'll send for help if I need it."

* * *

><p>Olivia walked into the Yellow Oval Room just as one of her assistants walked out. "Ma'am I put the box that arrived on the French table behind the couch as you requested."<p>

"Perfect," Olivia smiled, just as another staffer hurried up to advise that her visitors were on their way, escorted by Olivia's chief-of-staff.

The men bustled in, genial and happy, with a token woman in their midst brightening the dark suits with in all-white ensemble.

"Bill couldn't make it. So we got Kelly to tag along since she's wearing Olivia Pope white – heard that was your colour of choice back in the day when you were a professional business woman," one of the men joked.

Olivia gave a bland smile. "Oh, my wardrobe is a lot more diverse than you think, but I like the suit, Kelly. Who's the designer?"

Before Kelly could answer, the Mayor cut in, "Are we waiting on Cyrus and the new VP?"

"They have another emergency to deal with, so I'll be taking this meeting with my trusted aides," Olivia introduced her assistant and chief-of-staff.

Smiles appeared on the faces of the men and stayed, as they settled on the couches and stretched their legs.

From the start, it was clear that the Mayor and his business buddies had arrived with one thing in mind – to humour Olivia.

"…You've got to understand, housing the homeless is a noble cause but it's not a long-term fix. Turning the CBD into a vagrant zone isn't going to fix the problem."

"This sure smells like socialism to me. That's a sure fire way of letting the Commies in. They'll be running the state before we can say shoot."

"Now. Now let's not mention that 'C-word' in the house that Capitalism built. I'm all for feeding the hungry and sheltering the poor – those are good Christian values," the Mayor chimed in, but was immediately cut off by a volley of protests.

"Hey, I'm a Christian who believes that 'God helps those who help themselves'. If they ain't helping themselves and God ain't helping, I don't see why I should have to!"

"The American dream is built on the blood, sweat and tears of our pioneers– _pioneers_ who didn't stand in line for a handout!"

"Look, I'm all for charity but dammit, there isn't enough fish and loaves to go around! We need to wait for the second coming for that kind of miracle!"

Olivia held up her hands. "Okay, I get what you're saying. But here's where I'm coming from: the reports on the coffee table are from the Office of Management and Budget and the General Services Administration. The documents contain information about the 77,000 vacant Federal buildings across the country, which cost tax-payers $1.7 billion a year. Turning them into homeless shelters would be a better way to spend tax revenue."

"Those buildings should be sold or leased to private developers. That would be the better investment, one that would keep everyone happy," the Mayor inserted.

"Everyone except the homeless," Olivia said.

"Look," One of the suits responded, "We understand you have a personal stake in all this, with your dad and stepson staging a media stunt about this issue. They've forced your hand and you've got to be seen to be doing something, but there's a lot more at stake than idealism here."

"Yes," added another, "The Administration has a bad habit of throwing good money after bad and this is another example of tax dollars going down the crapper."

"Would you like the confidential files handed out now, ma'am," her assistant murmured, leaning towards Olivia.

She nodded, then watched as secured folders were taken out of the box on the antique table and given to each Business Council representative after confirming their names. "The folders contain offers based on your individual circumstances. It's confidential information; even my staff here don't know what's inside. The contents are intended to help you understand what I hope to achieve." Olivia's gaze swept over the group. "Do you need a moment to read through the documents?"

As soon as the folders had been handed over, the businessmen – save for Kelly, the last minute stand-in, and the Mayor – had peeked inside only to gape, flush or pale at the contents before hastily shutting the folder.

Now, taking in their gimlet-eyed silence, Olivia said blandly, "Why don't we give you a moment to consider your positions." Then she ushered her team out of the room.

* * *

><p>"How did your meeting go?" Cyrus stopped by her office later that afternoon.<p>

"Better than I expected. I've got several corporate sponsorship offers for the project."

Cyrus stared at her solemnly. "The Mayor called. He wanted to know what you put in those folders because the fire-breathing outrage got snuffed like a candle when they got a peek at what was inside."

"It's confidential, Cyrus."

"I'm guessing your associates are involved in this."

Olivia smiled sweetly. "I've quit that job, remember. Now I'm just a full-time wife and mother."

Cyrus barked out a laugh. "That will be the day!" He got to his feet. "FYI, the Mayor was impressed. And a little scared."

"I'm flattered," Olivia murmured reaching for the ringing phone.

"Hi," she smiled as the door closed behind Cyrus.

Fitz snuffled a laugh. "The Mayor sent me an email. Said you wiped the floor with the Big Dicks."

"Fitz!"

"Hey, that's I'm just quoting the Mayor. What happened?"

"We-ell I don't want to brag…"

Fitz chuckled. "What was in the files?"

"I can't tell you."

"Livvie, we're married, what you tell me is confidential because of spousal privilege."

"That a moot point when the NSA is listening to this conversation."

"This line is secure."

"Not even the teenage hackers listening to you believe that."

Fitz gusted a sigh. "Liv…"

"Faraway County, Fitz."

"What?"

"We need to talk about what's happening in Faraway County."

"I heard about that kid," The cajoling note had left his voice. "Gang violence is getting out of hand."

"It wasn't gang violence. A cop shot the kid."

"Was he resisting arrest?"

"No, he wasn't resisting arrest. He was kneeling on the ground when he was shot in the head. And then he was shot twice as he lay there dying. I saw the Medical Examiner's report, Huck got me a copy."

"Liv, I'll get the Attorney General to look into it."

"And then what?"

"Then we'll take the appropriate action based on what we find."

"They are bringing tanks into town. You don't want to end up with another Kent State on your hands."

"Leave this to me."

"While my people are getting killed?"

"_Your_ people, Livvie?"

"_My_ people, Fitz. The ones getting killed for the colour of their skin. They are being killed by men in hoods hiding behind a cop uniform. That FBI investigation into Fruitland Park, Florida is proof of that. Those two cops with hate-group affiliations could just be the tip of the iceberg."

"Fuck!"

"What?!"

"You've got a plan and I'm not going to like it."

That made her smile despite her exasperation with him.

"What are you going to do, Liv?"

"I'd tell you but the NSA is listening."

* * *

><p><strong>DAY FIVE…<strong>

The truth was Olivia didn't have a plan, but she desperately needed one.

She was busy considering her options when she came down to breakfast to find Jerry at the table with Rowan and Felicia.

"Where's Karen?"

"In her room," Rowan said buttering his toast.

"Under the covers," Jerry mumbled while slurping a mouthful of cereal.

"She wants to be alone," Felicia added, reaching for the jam.

"Why?"

There was an exchange of glances and a series of non-committal shrugs.

"Right." Olivia marched back down the hallway and knocked on Karen's door.

"_Go away_! I want to be _alone_!"

Surprised at the tone, Olivia opened the door, "Karen?"

Hearing no response, Olivia entered the room and approached the lump in the middle of the bed. "K, what's wrong?"

Again silence, so Olivia pulled back the covers, to find Karen lying there with her eyes squeezed shut, hugging her purple dragon.

"Baby K, what's going on? You'll be late for school."

Karen turned away, holding onto her dragon even more tightly. "I'm not going to school."

Olivia sat down carefully, reaching out to stroke a hand over Karen's tangled hair. "Did you have a fight with that boy?"

Karen cast a confused look over her shoulder. "What boy?"

"Jerry's friend."

Karen turned away again. "No."

"Is it Pete?"

Karen shook her head.

"Then what's wrong."

"The kids in school say we're going to have a war. In Faraway County."

Olivia's raised a brow. "What do you know about Faraway County?"

"A policeman shot a boy and they're bringing guns and tanks to scare people who are angry about what happened."

Olivia sighed. "We're not going to have a war, K."

Karen sat up, releasing her stranglehold on the dragon. "They've got tanks and policemen in gasmasks and shields in Faraway County. It's like when Dad was locked up and you went to New Mexico to rescue him."

"It's not going to be like that, Baby K. We won't let it."

Karen looked at Olivia sadly. "Mom, I'm not a kid. I'm eight and I'll be nine soon. I know you can't fix this. No one can because it's been happening for years and years and years."

Olivia felt a sudden rush of hopelessness, mirroring the look on her daughter's face. Then she took a deep breath and smiled. "Have you heard of Ruby Bridges?"

Karen shook her head.

Olivia held out her arm to tuck Karen against her side. "Ruby Bridges was a little girl, a little younger than you—"

"How much younger?"

"She was six… and she was the first black kid to go to William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans. You know what was special about that school – up until the day Ruby walked through the doors, it had been an all-white school," Olivia looked down at Karen's solemn face. "And a lot of people – parents, kids, townspeople – were unhappy to see her there, so she had to go to school with US Marshalls protecting her."

"A bit like me with the Secret Service following me around because I'm Dad's kid… only Ruby needed protection because she was black."

Olivia nodded, "But you know what – there were white families who wanted Ruby there, who kept their kids in that school after Ruby went there. They would watch out for her, walk behind her and the Marshalls to show their support. And if you had been around then, I know you would have been her friend."

Karen nodded, her face fiercely earnest. "I would, Mom. I really would."

"I know, baby. And you need to know that every day there's a new Ruby who has to go to a new school where she doesn't have friends because she's looks different, talks differently or likes different things. Every time you make friends with girls like Ruby we fix the problem bit-by-bit, even it takes years and years to do it."

Karen stared Olivia for a long moment, then stared down at their clasped hands, "So you want me to find a new Ruby and make friends with her?"

"You don't have to, but it would be nice if you did – at least with one new Ruby. Think you can do that?"

Karen nodded, then sighed. "I'll be late at school."

"I'll write a note to the Principal. I'll let her know you were helping me with a very important mission."

Karen smiled and reached up to kiss Olivia's cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

* * *

><p>When Olivia came carrying Teddy into James' office for their daily playdate, he turned away from the big screen television on the wall and rushed forward to take Teddy from her arms.<p>

"What are you doing carrying him? Where's Marta?" He asked by way of a greeting.

"She's cleaning the mess Teddy made with his cereal – believe me, I have the easier job here."

Then as James placed Teddy in the play-yard with Ella, Olivia's gaze swept to the TV.

"Can you believe what's going on in Faraway County?" James asked, joining her as she sat perched on the edge of his desk.

"Everyone's talking about Faraway County now that they can report on people breaking into shops and throwing Molotov cocktails at police."

"The situation escalated after a police dog urinated on a street memorial. Then the tanks rolled up and crushed it completely. It made some people justifiably mad. But that's not the core issue."

"No, the core issue is that they still haven't arrested the officer who shot that kid."

"That's why the people are going down in droves to protest taking us back to the civil rights movement in the Sixties. What concerns me even more is the way the police are escalating the situation, firing rubber bullets at peaceful protestors. They even fired on a state senator. They've been caught on tape yelling racial slurs at civilians and threatening to shoot journalists who get in their face. It's an absolute disgrace."

James turned to Olivia. "The White House needs to say something."

"Cyrus thinks that will make the situation worse."

"Cyrus is good at denial. He lived a lie about being gay most of his life. Now he thinks he can pretend he isn't the white father of a black child because he wants Ella to grow up in a colour-blind world. He may be blind to Ella's colour but the rest of the world will not be."

"Is that why you've started putting Ella's hair in Afro braids?"

"Do you know how difficult they are to do? It takes me like an hour every morning. But it's worth it – Ella loves them."

"They're cute. I might need lessons if this little bub turns out to be a girl."

James grinned. "I'll be an expert by then."

Olivia chuckled, then turned her attention to the TV again. "So what are we going to do about Ferguson?"

"You're still a private citizen, Olivia. And a mother."

* * *

><p><strong>An Evening Show…<strong>

"…_In the news today, Mrs Olivia Pope-Grant causes a media shitstorm by releasing a video statement on Faraway County. The First Lady has kept a low profile since President Grant was released 'from psychiatric evaluation' aka the FBI-hippy retreat down in New Mexico. (Laughter at pictures of Fitzgerald Grant with a beard). Her comments this afternoon have shocked Capitol Hill where the President's second wife is known for being a politically savvy fixer adept at avoiding controversy. The White House Press Secretary was quick to point out that the First Lady was speaking as a concerned private citizen and mother, not on behalf of the Grant Administration. And we know that 'baby brain' is a medically-recognised condition (more laughter as pictures of Kim Kadarshian at the 2014 Met Ball came on screen). So what has our esteemed Olivia done to get everyone's knickers in a twist? Well, this:_

[First Lady Olivia-Pope Grant speaking:] '…I have followed the events in Faraway County this week, and what I've seen concerns me. It concerns me that a child walking home from the store was shot and killed in a peaceful neighbourhood. It concerns me that a community expressing their outrage through peaceful street protests is being tear-gassed and fired on with rubber bullets. It concerns me that all this is being done to uphold law and order in a country at peace.

'…As a mother, I want my children to live in a country where they feel safe. I want them to feel safe in the hands of the people sworn to protect us – all of us, irrespective of colour, gender, sexual orientation or ability.

"…As a mother, I want each of my children to know their safety is important, their lives are important, and if something happens to their safety or their lives, then justice is important.

'In the words of Dr Martin Luther King Jr, 'Without justice, there can be no peace'. For peace to happen in Faraway County, it's imperative that justice is done before the situation escalates out of control…'

_No guesses as to what the First Lady was alluding to – she's clearly calling for the arrest of the 28-year-old policeman who shot an 18-year-old unarmed kid in Faraway County…_

* * *

><p>"<em>I told you to STAY AWAY from fucking HATE GROUPS and you take on the fucking POLICE<em>?!"

Olivia held the phone away from her ear. "Fitz…"

"_Don't Fitz me! You are to stay inside the White House until I get home!_"

"_What_?! Are you _grounding_ me?"

"_YES_!"

"You cannot _ground_ me!"

"Yes, I can!"

"_No! You cannot!_" Olivia shouted. Then feeling an unsettling in her stomach, she paused, taking a deep breath, before adding calmly. "I can't talk to you right now. The baby is getting upset." And she hung up the phone and refused to answer when it rang again almost instantly.

Ten minutes later, Cyrus walked into her office, holding out his cellphone. "The President."

Olivia rolled her eyes and took the cell. "I am not staying in the White House until you get back."

"Uh… I'll be outside." Cyrus was already out the door before Fitz responded evenly, "I asked you not to fix anything dangerous while I was gone. Instead of one thing, you try and fix ten. Why can't you do as you're told?"

"Excuse me?!"

He rumbled a noisy sigh. "That came out wrong."

"No, it came out right. I'm not your property that you can order around."

"Don't start that again. Not now."

Olivia pulled the phone away from her ear and thought about smashing it to pieces. Instead she took another deep breath, before saying slowly, enunciating each word with bite. "Don'_t_ star_t_ with wha_t_ again?"

There was a long silence, then Fitz said softly, "It would kill me if anything happened to you."

"Don't avoid the question."

"It would kill me, Livvie," he repeated.

Olivia closed her eyes, picturing his face at that moment, pained and hurting. "I'm not a child, you can't ground me."

"I can try," he grumbled.

"No, you can't." She smiled.

"You're smiling."

"No, I'm not." Her smile widened.

"I need you to be safe. Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise."

"So you'll stay put."

"No."

"Olivia."

"Fitz, do you realise how many ways vested interests have found to keep our democracy silent? By manipulating fears based on ignorance and prejudice?" Olivia sighed, "Do you ever stop to think how we got here? And how long we're going to stand by and keep letting this continue?"

"You can't fix two hundred years of history, Livvie."

Olivia gave a rueful smile, hearing him echo Karen's words. Then closed her eyes as she heard him continue softly, "It's like those messy balls of wool my gran had. She refused to waste time trying to unravel them because that wouldn't leave her any time to knit… Sometimes you just have to leave the past behind and move on, Livvie."

"My mother always unravelled her wool, and she got me to help her. That's when I realised I liked solving problems, Fitz, even if the problem I was trying to fix was only a tangled ball of wool."

Fitz groaned. "Livvie…"

"Fitz, we're equal partners in this marriage, so you have to support me even when you don't agree with what I'm doing."

"Liv, I can't do that, not when this concerns your safety."

Olivia was silent. Then she said softly, "…Goodnight, Mr President."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So sincere apologies to the three readers missed my story – Clio1792, Marylinj (who I'm thinking is the third one too! :P) and an anonymous 'guest' who wondered if I'd found my 'Fitz' who was keeping me from writing. ;D**

**That was really cute. So have I found a 'Leader of the Free World' to explore 'the secrets of my universe'? The short answer is no (picture Grumpy Cat here).**

**To tell you the truth, it's not Fitz that inspires this story but Tony-playing-Fitz (and his evident adoration of Kerry) who has managed to escape Shonda-Kill-Cupid-Scissorhands.. To anyone who wants to remind me that both are married to other people – let me share my aunt's words of encouragement to stubbornly single females: '_marriage is a misery we must all suffer'_. Those unions illustrate her premise, as does Fitz's marriage to Mellie.**

**Now where was I? Oh, yes, the long drought was not just due to my usual inability to juggle work, assignments and Tumblr well, but Ferguson really. I was debating whether to include it, or ignore it like I did with the Palestinian atrocities because there was just too much awfulness to write about in a couple of sentences (how I usually include international happenings). But since race politics is already part of this story, Ferguson inspired 'Faraway County'.**

**By a strange coincidence the minute I finished writing about Ruby Bridges – I saw a Tumblr post about her and figured that was a sign I was on the right/write track. (Yes, I am superstitious that way– Thu! Thu! Spitting to banish evil). And I want to share an insightful quote from Ruby that I found on Wikipedia:**

**"_Racism is a grown-up disease and we must stop using our children to spread it_" – Ruby Bridges.**

**BTW, I have to thank numerous Tumblr-writers for inspiring this chapter, your conversations drove this narrative, and my encouraging readers (if not for your guilt trips I would still be procrastinating – looking at llama selfies, muddy dogs and cute kittens- hehe).**

**Other bits of misappropriated info that I found interesting:**

**UBS tax evasion controversy (X)**

**Government's Empty Buildings Are Costing Taxpayers Billions (X)**

**How Fox News silenced Obama on race (X)**

**Hacker High: 10 Stories of Teenage Hackers Getting into the System (X)**

**Hate Groups Have Infiltrated America's Police Departments (X)**

**No police screening for KKK, hate group membership, Florida case shows (X)**

**Ruby Bridges (X)  
><strong>

**2014 Ferguson unrest (X)**

**84yo Chinese man beaten by NYPD for jaywalking; language barriers blamed (X) **


	39. Fitz Returns

**Disclaimer: Shondaland and ABC own these characters. $%#! **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Media Headlines…<strong>

'_Disaster strikes when US Presidents put their wives in charge of a Presidential Task Force...'_

'_History Repeats at the White House …'_

'_Bill Clinton in 1993; Fitzgerald Grant in 2014: why wives need to be kept out of public policy reform…'_

'_Hillary Clinton failed at Universal Healthcare Reform; Olivia Grant fails at Housing the Homeless...'_

James looked up from his tablet and glared at Cyrus who was typing away on his laptop on the far side of the passenger seat. Ella was watching Sesame Street on her baby tablet sitting in her car-seat between them.

It was their daily commute to work, in a government vehicle driven by Secret Service agents. A routine established by Grant executive order after it became public knowledge that Cyrus was gay.

"Is there a reason you're trying to burn a hole into the side of my face with that glare?" Cyrus murmured not looking up from his laptop.

"Have you seen the headlines; they are trying to make out that Olivia is the new Hillary."

"I knew the fallout would be bad, but noooo, no one listens to fuddy duddy Cyrus. Now look where it's got us."

Ella looked up and grinned, 'Fuddy duddy.'

"Now look what you made me do?" Cyrus glared at James. "Say Federal Reserve, Ella sweetie. Federal Reserve."

"This isn't about public policy. This is about Olivia calling the police out on their racial biases. Doesn't it concern you that this is the world we're sending Ella out into?"

"Ella will not be a racial statistic, the same reason that Bill De Blasio's children will not be stopped and frisked by cops in New York – they are not poor black kids from the projects. It's not walking down the street while black that mattes to your survival. It's walking down which street..."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hourly update on 24hr News Network…<strong>_

"_Not everything is about race. There are children being killed by gang violence every day on our streets. It's out of control but no one talks about that. Those statistics are buried in the graves of those dead children. We need to ask ourselves why there is silence when it comes to black-on-black crime, but an outcry over one white cop shooting one black kid. Let me remind you that the man was doing his job. If the cops get accused of racism every time they apprehend a criminal how will they uphold law and order in this country? Then how do we, as citizens, expect to enjoy our Constitutional freedoms? I can tell you that it will be impossible… _

"… _This conversation about race is a distraction. Olivia Pope is a smart woman. She sees her husband's Presidential future in ruins, and being the expert fixer that she is, she finds a distraction. A distraction from the deep and fundamental problems of the Grant Administration…"_

_Segueway __to News anchor. "That was ex-Vice President Sally Langston speaking today at a Republican fund-raiser. Ms Langston resigned from office after her husband tried to drown the First Lady in the Potomac River earlier this year. However she remains leader of the Republican Party and, according to Murdoch Press, is the current front-runner in the Presidential race._

"_In other news, current Vice President Lucas Zeke's partner was detained by Sameole Police today for a seatbelt violation. Mr Oscar Zidambe was on his way to Faraway County when he was stopped for a routine traffic check which ended with Mr Zidambe being taken into custody._

"_Sameole Police chief later told the media that the situation could have been avoided if Mr Zidambe had confirmed his identity. "We made a mistake. He looked like a guy on our Most Wanted List… "_

"So you're going for the all black men look the same defence?!" Zeke yelled at the Sameole police chief.

He'd arrived in Marine Two to collect Oscar, and had wasted no time in giving the Police chief a piece of his mind during a closed-door meeting.

The Police Chief bristled. "He wasn't wearing a seatbelt."

"The hell he wasn't! But since it's Oscar's word against a cop and we're going with the cop? I should sue your ass for harassment! Racial profiling of motorists is banned in this state!"

"Now that would be igniting an already volatile situation," the chief said, pugnaciously.

"You should have thought about that before going after my husband."

The man flinched in distaste. "The White House sure ain't what it used to be under the new Administration."

In the chopper flying back to DC, Oscar sat quietly listening to Zeke let off steam…

"Fuck it! History keeps on repeating itself! It ain't right! A black kid can't walk down the street; a black woman can't knock on a door for help."

"I ain't dead."

Zeke paused and looked at Oscar. "That ain't cause for celebration. There needs to be consequences. Like there was for that kid who frisked Forest Whitaker in a New York deli. They say this ain't about race. Yeah, well until there's consequences, it don't matter how high up we climb out of the cesspit of history, we're still boys these crackers can beat down every chance they get."

* * *

><p><em><strong>World News special feature…<strong>_

"_A new study shows that anti-black sentiments have increased since US President Fitzgerald Grant married his second wife, an African-American. _

"_The level of 'explicit racism', according to the survey, is higher among Republican voters than respondents who identified themselves with the Democrats. _

"_Here are the figures – close to 80% of Republican voters say race matters; nearly half of all independents say the same, while only 32% of Democrats see race as an issue. The figures also reveal a change in racial attitudes with an increase in the number of Republican voters admitting to anti-black attitudes after the Grants' marriage earlier this year. _

"_By all indications this is bad news for ex-Republican and newly-Independent President Fitzgerald Grant, and here to discuss the issue we have Democratic Presidential candidate Governor Samuel Reston who is joining us from Maryland via satellite._

"_Governor Reston, you've seen the figures and I understand you've read the report. Do you feel it's an accurate representation of the general mood of the American voting public?"_

"_Oh I would say it was very accurate. There are a lot of deep-seated issues that keep rearing their ugly heads every so often and Faraway County is one such instance. Racial tensions are never far from the surface in this country. It's a serious and sometimes deadly issue when you're African-American…"_

"Will you like at that? Not only do they omit Olivia's name but they get a white man to talk about what it means to black in this country,' Rowan shook his head as Felicia sat down next to him on the couch.

"They are giving Sam Reston's campaign a boost at the same time. This is just the kind of show that would appeal to the liberal elite," Felicia murmured, wrapping the crocheted shawl closer around her.

When Rowan didn't respond immediately, she looked at his pensive face. "You don't look happy. Isn't this what you wanted – to get the nation talking about race?"

Rowan looked at Felicia, a grey tired cast to his face. "I wanted Olivia to get the White House to release a statement, not make a target of herself for every crazy ass bigot in the country."

"She was never a girl to hide behind her Daddy, and wanting to do the same with Fitzgerald. You know that she always led the charge, even as a teenager. You have to let her fight this one on her own terms."

* * *

><p>Olivia marched down to the ground floor of the West Wing, heading towards the Secret Service Command Post. "Tom! Why can't I leave the White House? I have a speaking engagement to attend. This was approved months ago."<p>

Tom, who had been on the verge of spilling his coffee on his shirt, set the mug down carefully and stood up. "Ma'am, you can't leave the White House, President's orders."

Olivia glared at Tom.

He held her glare trying not to blink.

After a long moment of antagonistic silence, Olivia snapped, "Fine! I'll handle this."

Tom's impassive expression disappeared. "Ma'am, what are you going to do? Ma'am?" But Olivia had already left the room.

Tom dived for the phone and barked, "Don't let her out of your sight!'

Leaving the West Wing, Olivia took her Fitz phone and made a phone call. Then swept into the Master bedroom suite where her hair-and-makeup team were waiting.

A couple of minutes later Tia, the hair stylist and Alisa, the make-up artist, gaped at Olivia.

"Lemme get this straight - you want to look like one of us?

"So you can get outta here without anyone knowing?"

Olivia nodded.

The women glanced at each other, then back at Olivia.

"Are we aiding and abetting in the commission of a crime?" When the other women stared at her, Tia said diffidently, "I heard that on a show last night."

"No, I have a convention to attend."

"Cosplay? Hey, I love those," Alisa grinned. "You wanna look like me? I'm channelling my inner T'Pring of Star Trek today."

Olivia looked at the woman critically. "Yes, that could work. We're about the same height and build."

"Oh, that ain't important," Tia dismissed with a toss of her hand. "No one notices us around here. Even with Alisa's crazy make-up."

Olivia looked from one to the other. "Who is licensed to drive the Beauty van?"

Tia raised her hand.

Olivia smiled. "Okay, so that's decided."

An hour later, Olivia looked across at Tia behind the wheel of the van and murmured, "That was surprisingly easy."

"I told you, no one looks at the help. You gotta be some kind of famous to get noticed in this town." Tia gave Olivia a quick once-over before turning her attention to the road. "It'll only take a few minutes to fix up your hair under that wig. Glad I carry those around for emergencies."

"I'm more worried about the neon blue lipstick and purple eye shadow."

"Honey, I am too but we'll pray to the Lord for guidance."

When they arrived at their destination, and Olivia was ready to leave the back of the van looking more like herself, Tia frowned in concern, "So how you gonna get back? You sure you don't want me to wait for you?"

"I've organised transport. And I'll arrange for Alisa to get a ride home too."

"Least I'll have a friend when your husband finds out what we've done and puts us both in Gitmo."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News…<strong>_

"_Mrs Olivia Pope caused a major panic at the 'We are Women' feminist convention, when she arrived without her usual retinue of Secret Service Agents. Organisers had to call in their own security after the First Lady was heckled by a group of bystanders. Several more were later removed from the auditorium during Mrs Pope's speech when Security Service arrived late, after a reported vehicle breakdown…_

_**Comments on Web Discussion Board…**_

_**FoxyBee6 :**__ "She's not a role model. I don't know why any self-respecting feminist would mistake her for one. The First Lady gave up a successful career as a crisis manager to be a mother and live off the state and her husband. She's turned the clock back on everything women have fought to achieve for generations."_

_Response to __**FoxyBee6 **__from __**LetLive: **__"A modern feminist has the power of choice; you can be a wife or a mother or both. The choice is yours to make."_

_Response to __**FoxyBee6 **__from __**BeenThereDunThat**__: "It felt like she didn't want to rock the boat. They're already unhappy with her for having the audacity to marry her lover."_

_Response to __**BeenThereDunThat**__ from __**StayinSingle37**__: "You mean her lover who is a white man. And we're not talking about any white man. It's the President of the United States. White women see themselves as the ultimate prize – not only because our men were lynched for looking, never mind touching. Now we're free, our men don't just look, they line up around the block to marry them, and suddenly we, black women, end up at the bottom of the heap."_

_Response to __**StayinSingle37 **__from __**GotYoMan2:**__ "F*ck yeah! A white President told the world he loved a black woman, then topped that by marrying her. Sure upset a lot of white women and their social order. We started in the bottom of the Slave Ships and now we are in the White House."_

_Response to __**GotYoMan2**__ from __**FoxyBee6**__: "Marrying 'up' or 'in' as the case may be, isn't any kind of protection. Look at that Django Unchained actress who got arrested because she got frisky with her husband in the front seat of her car."_

_Response to__** FoxyBee6 **__from __**GotYoMan2: **__"That was such a beat up. Daniele Watts gets arrested for kissing her husband but no one mistook Kristen Stewart for being a hooker when she got caught with Rupert Sanders. The cops see a white woman with a white man and it's mistaken for love, but a black woman with her husband – then it must be a John who paid for that Good-Good."_

_Response to __**FoxyBee6 **__from __**StayinSingle37**__: "No one's marrying 'up' or 'in' by taking on a white man. They've been lusting after our black asses for centuries. Heck, I have to beat the horny bastards off with a stick when I walk down the street."_

_Response to __**StayinSingle37 **__from __**FoxyBee6**__: [Deleted by Administrator due to complaints]_

_Response to __**FoxyBee6 **__from __**StayinSingle37: **__[Deleted by Administrator due to complaints]_

_[Comments have been disabled on this thread]_

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, the President is on his way."<p>

Olivia grabbed her pocket mirror from her bag and checked her reflection. She smoothed a couple of stray hairs, re-touched her lipstick and then shoved the evidence in her bag before opening a random file on her desk.

She was reading the first line for the fifth time when the door opened without a knock and Fitz walked in.

Olivia took her time raising her head.

"Hi," he said, leaning against the door.

"You're back," she said, as if he'd gone down to the store and returned without milk and bread.

"You didn't come with the kids to meet me."

"You grounded me."

A wry smile ghosted over his lips. "Yet, you managed to attend the feminist conference yesterday."

She stared at him mutinously.

He looked at her for a long moment. "You walked out of here without the Secret Service. If it was someone other than Tom, I would have fired him and I'm considering banning those two women who helped put you in danger, from setting foot in here again."

"Fitz, it's not their fault."

"No, it's yours, Livvie. Next time the protestors may not stop at verbal abuse."

"I know."

There was a pause. Then Fitz gave a wry smile. "Can I at least get a hug before we continue this fight?"

Olivia wrinkled her nose, "That would ruin the mood."

"Livvie, this is an Executive Order. I could get the Marines involved."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Fine, since you put it like that." She got to her feet and walked barefoot around the desk towards him.

Her pink toenails made him chuckle softly as he met her halfway.

"Hi," he whispered, taking her face between his hands.

"Hi." She smiled, reaching up to stroke her fingers up over his cheek and into his hair

In the next instant, his mouth crashed down on hers, hungry and wanting. She moaned, standing on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When they broke apart, breathless, he growled "You made me wait an extra half an hour for that."

"I was mad at you," she gasped, trying to keep her brain functioning as his mouth moved to the sweet spot on her neck.

"Sir…!" The door opened and Cyrus walked in. Then turned on his heel and walked just as abruptly, slamming the door behind him.

"We need a lock on that door." Fitz raised his head, his eyes dark as his gaze focused on her mouth.

Olivia gave a soft laugh, which disappeared into his mouth in another bone-melting kiss.

"You missed me," he said eventually, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warming her face as he wrapped his arms around her.

"No," she denied, while her hands swept over him, drawing him closer.

"Then I'm going back to Mimi."

"Okay." She laughed just as Cyrus swept in a second time.

"Sir! We have an emergency. The situation in Faraway County is escalating. We need to do something or we'll have another Kent States on our hands! The National Security Council is waiting for you in the Situation Room."

Looking at Olivia, Fitz sighed, "All right, we'll be there."

"We?" Cyrus looked at Olivia.

"We," confirmed Fitz, tightening his hold on Olivia's hand.

"Wait, I need to get my shoes," Olivia murmured, avoiding eye contact with Cyrus.

"I'll get them," Fitz grazed a kiss on top of her head, before heading behind the desk to get her shoes from under the chair.

Returning with the low-heeled pumps, he knelt before her, helping her feet into the pair before placing his hands on her waist to kiss her barely noticeable baby-bump. Then he stood up and placed a soft kiss on Olivia's mouth, before re-claiming her hand and leading her out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Good to have you back, sir," The National Security Advisor said when Fitz, Olivia and Cyrus walked into the Situation Room. "Uh, sorry to have disturbed you." He flushed as his gaze took in the trail of lipstick on Fitz's face.<p>

"This is an emergency," the Attorney-General reminded, gruffly.

"Yes, the situation has escalated after the First Lady made an issue of race," said the Homeland Security Advisor as if Olivia wasn't in the room

Fitz drew Olivia into the crook of his arm. "My wife was stating the obvious. Race was already an issue."

Ignoring Fitz's glare, the Homeland Security Advisor added, "Then let me continue in the same vein. We've got every trouble-maker in the country pouring into Faraway County from both sides of the spectrum. It's a tinderbox waiting to go off."

"We should send the National Guard down there to help the local sheriff's department," said the National Security Advisor.

"Then we'll have a civil war on our hands," said the Attorney General.

Olivia glanced at Fitz. "I need to fix this."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," The Homeland advisor snapped, "But you've done enough fixing already. Now we need the guys in pants to handle this."

"You're fired," Fitz said.

"No," Olivia whispered.

"Yes."

"Fitz."

Cyrus gave a distracting cough. "Why don't we give the President and First Lady a moment to talk."

The other men exchanged glances, then trooped out after Cyrus.

When they were alone, Fitz sat on the edge of the conference table and drew Olivia into the circle of his arms, while she stood in the space between his legs. "He's fired."

"Fitz," Olivia cautioned, rubbing traces of lipstick from his face with her thumb. "You can't keep threatening to sack people who don't like me. You won't have many people working for you. That goes for majority of people in this country. Are you going to deport them too?"

"I'll draw up the deportation order once this is over. Maybe the Indian space mission can take them to Mars but it will have to be upgraded to fit them all."

When she slid her arms around his shoulders without a smile; he kissed her softly. "That was a joke."

When she still didn't smile, he mumbled against her lips. "What's wrong?"

Olivia sighed as their foreheads came to rest together. "This is a seriously huge problem. The police are targeting black kids. We have more Faraway Counties than I realised."

Fitz drew back with a solemn look. "That's just anecdotal evidence."

"Then let's gather real evidence."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A congressional hearing."

"Congress won't go for that."

"They will if you frame it like you're fixing my fuck up."

A laugh escaped him as he leaned forward and kissed her nose. "No swearing in front of the baby."

"You yelled worse over the phone."

"I'm a bad boy," he groaned, "When we have time to get naked, you can punish me."

"Get naked?" she arched a brow.

"Perks of fixing your fuck ups."

"Fitz!" she laughed.

He grinned. "I'm building up demerit points."

* * *

><p><em><strong>President Grant addresses the nation with his wife, Olivia Pope-Grant, by his side. <strong>_

"The issue of race carries a lot of pain in this country. It goes deep into our shared history. Occasionally the inconvenient truths of our past surface in places like Faraway County; in Missouri, Alabama, Florida, New York. The places and names change but the underlying problem remain; festering in our national psyche until the next civil disturbance.

"I believe we have reached a point where we can no longer ignore what's happening in our backyard; in our neighbourhoods; on our streets, especially not in the institutions established to protect our citizens.

"No man, woman or child should suffer the indignities of prejudice in this great land of liberty and individual freedom. I say this not because I am a man who shares these views with my wife, but because it's my job to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. Not as a historical document on display in a museum of antiquity but as a living representation of our freedoms; freedoms that must be shared by all our citizens.

"No one suffers in silence for long. No one turns the other cheek to have it slapped again and again. No mother watches her child bleeding to death and thinks there is no cause of justice. No mother stands silent while waiting for her child to be next. Nor should we expect them to. Liberty and freedom are not compatible with injustice and suffering…"

_President Grant hit the ground running after arriving from his tour of Asia last night. This morning he announced a raft of measures to resolve the increasing civil unrest in Faraway County. The headline event is a Congressional Hearing to investigate police and judicial misconduct involving minorities, slated to begin next month. Official sources say the President is trying to prevent Faraway Country from turning into the Los Angeles riots in 1992, when civil unrest swept through the city after the mostly white police officers were acquitted of brutalising Rodney King..._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: My dear readers, thank you for your kind reviews, and thank you for the Stevie Wonder song – I posted it on Tumblr (around the time of the review) and agree _Love is in need of Love today_! I also have to confess that other people's conversations inspired the last chapter (as in I pilfered their thoughts shamelessly!) so I deserve very little credit!**

**Glad the readers of this story had mostly positive feedback about me shoving real-life events into fictional situations. That's the only way I can stop myself writing what feels like a tween romance sometimes.**

**One of my 'guests' (heh,heh) sent me a request for smut and I chickened-out AGAIN (picture Norman Rockwell's boy gripping edge of diving board) and kept it PG-rated! Sorry! **

**Actually, I should have been inspired after seeing all those naked body parts on my Tumblr dash from shows **_**with no visible people of colour**_** (guess the PoC must work for the art department – like Disney's animation teams). **

**But as I've written this and the last chapter on the train – I don't want to get turned on by my own writing, sitting next to a man reading the Fin Review with binocular-range bifocals; or worse, a toddler playing-peek-a-boo in her pram.**

**(BTW, to anyone else who wants to write on public transport – what worked for me is writing freestyle in the morning; editing in the afternoon)**

**Okay so I'll stop blabbing because this time my references are longer than my story! **

**References in no particular order:**

**Fact Checker: Is police brutality toward blacks rare? (X)**

**1 Black Man Is Killed Every 28 Hours by Police or Vigilantes: America Is Perpetually at War with Its Own People (X)**

**Michael Brown, Police Violence, And Why It's So Hard For Victims To See Justice (X)**

**Killers Behind The Badge: NewsOne's Investigative Series On Police Brutality In Black America (X)**

**What Happened to Health Care Reform? (X)**

**Hillary Clinton's Fight for Universal Health Care (X)**

**Smart enough to know better: Intelligence is not a remedy for racism (X)**

**Attitudes toward African-Americans have worsened since 2008, research finds (X)**

**US gives $4.75m for study on race bias by police (X)**

**Stop-and-Frisk Campaign: About the Issue (X)**

**Black Americans Split Into Rich and Poor (X)**

**Forest Whitaker Falsely Accused Of Shoplifting; Deli Employee Who Frisked Star Fired (VIDEO) (X)**

**Republicans Mad That Obama Mentioned Ferguson in U.N. Speech (X)**

**Marine One (X)**

**Which states ban **_**racial profiling**_**? - The Times**** (X)**

**Obama's West Wing: Can reality match the liberal White House fantasy? (X)**

**Day Five - Presidential Protection Duty at the White House (X)**

**United States National Security Council (X)**

**Article Two of the United States Constitution (X)**

**1992 Los Angeles riots (X)**

**Los Angeles Police Officers' (Rodney King Beating) Trials (X) .**

**United States congressional hearing (X)**


	40. Can of Worms

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC blah blah blah. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Changes to President Fitzgerald Grant's schedule for the Week…<strong>_

_Monday- Meeting with Senate Select Committee for Law & Order. Meeting with Urban council rescheduled_

_Tuesday - Meeting with National Security Council. Change of timing to meeting with Financial Regulators _

_Wednesday – Meeting with Military Senior Leadership. Meeting with re-election committee postponed._

_Thursday– Meeting with the Attorney General. President's ribbon-cutting ceremony and school visit attended by Vice President._

* * *

><p>When Olivia walked into the Oval Office Friday evening, Fitz was framed in twilight by the window as he stood staring out into the Rose Garden.<p>

She paused by the door, noticing his mussed hair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie and coat were tossed on a chair.

"Fitz…?"

He turned swiftly, the worry lines disappearing behind a smile which quickly turned into a grin at the sight of the plate of cookies and steaming mugs on the tray she was carrying.

"I thought you might need a coffee break." She smiled as he approached and took the tray from her hands.

Setting the tray down on the nearest table, Fitz drew her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Can you breathe?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes," she snuffled a laugh and burrowed deeper in his arms.

After another long moment, he muttered, "The Pentagon wants to stall the hearing with a view to backtracking and ultimately burying it."

She drew back just enough to make eye contact. "Why?"

With a heavy sigh, Fitz released her. Then taking her hand, he led her to the couch where he sat down before making her comfortable on his lap.

He stared at her solemnly as if he was trying to break bad news to her in the gentlest possible way.

"Fitz," she encouraged, lifting a hand to his lean cheek. "Why do they want to stall the hearing?"

He turned to kiss her palm, mumbling, "The 1033 Program."

"What?"

He turned to face her. "The Pentagon has been loaning surplus military equipment to civilian police departments as a cheap storage option."

Olivia frowned, dropping her hand onto his shoulder. "How much surplus equipment?"

"More than $4.3 billion since it started in 1990; $450 million was loaned out last year. Most of the equipment is brand new."

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "So the Pentagon doesn't want taxpayers to know they've been hiding defence budget overspend in police departments?"

Fitz nodded with a wry grimace, "That's not the worst of it, Liv. We've been arming civilian police with brand new military equipment while police departments have been easing their recruitment guidelines. So here I am advocating tougher gun control, while the Pentagon has been putting assault rifles in the hands of bigots." He looked at her sadly. "More than half of all botched SWAT operations have involved ethnic minorities."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently but he still looked sad, so she nibbled on his lips. When she drew back to stare at his flushed face, he muttered, "What was I saying?"

Olivia giggled as he lowered her gently to lie on her side, sandwiched between him and the back of the couch.

She shifted closer so her bump rested against him, and then she murmured, "What are you going to do? Help Congress bury the investigation?"

He kissed her. "It's not that cut and dried. On the one hand, we have Congress, especially the Democrats, wanting to cut the defence budget because we're spending far in excess of any conceivable threat to our national security. On the other hand, the Republicans want to prove that I'm poking my big Federal snout into State politics because my Administration is in a mess. They're already lining up friendly witnesses to prove us wrong on police misconduct, Livvie. Either way, my attempt to fix the situation in Faraway County has opened a can of worms."

Seeing the heavy frown settle on his forehead, Olivia tightened her arms around his waist. "You know what's great to fix a can of worms?"

"What?" He muttered, staring at her mouth.

"Hungry birds."

He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, his face utterly serious, then without warning he launched an attack of the tickles on her.

"Fitz! Stop! I'm pregnant!" Olivia shrieked laughing, trying to push away his nimble fingers.

"Hungry birds," Fitz growled, diving in for a kiss.

* * *

><p>"The tense situation in Faraway County is looking better."<p>

Fitz and Olivia broke apart to stare owlishly over the back of the couch at Cyrus.

"I knocked," Cyrus said placidly. "And turned on the lights. Not that anyone noticed." Then glancing at Fitz, he murmured, "You might want to…" He waved a hand over his mouth, indicating the lipstick stains on Fitz's face. "And that too…" He waggled his hand over his chest, indicating the opening of Olivia's jacket.

Fitz reached for her jacket and buttoned it up, while Olivia rubbed the lipstick from his face.

Once they were more or less decent, Fitz turned to Olivia and muttered, "I need to remember to lock that door too."

"We have a briefing," Cyrus reminded, patiently.

There was a moment of tension as Fitz glared at Cyrus and Cyrus stared at Olivia and Olivia tried to find her shoes which had come off during the tickle session.

Then Cyrus added pointedly, "It's a private briefing."

"I'm just trying to find my shoes."

"These?" Cyrus bent down behind the arm of the couch and surfaced with her flats in his hands.

"You don't need those. You're staying," Fitz asserted, taking the shoes from Cyrus and tossing them over the other side.

Cyrus looked at Olivia and then Fitz, then rumbled a sigh and sat down on the couch opposite.

"As I was saying, the situation in Faraway County has simmered down. There's nothing like the threat of a Congressional Hearing to put everyone on their best behaviour. But the media hounds are sniffing around the Pentagon's 1033 program. They've been using police departments as cheap storage facilities for their surplus equipment."

"We were just talking about that," Olivia murmured, in a pacifying tone, venturing a smile which Cyrus didn't return.

Looking only at Fitz, Cyrus added, "We need to get the message out there that the equipment was on loan to help the police confront the threat of terrorism in their neighbourhoods."

"Except they are using the drones, automatic weapons and heavily armoured vehicles to terrorise their neighbourhoods. Why has Fargo in North Dakota paid $8 million to militarise their police when they've only averaged two murders since 2005?" Fitz glared at Cyrus.

"That's just the kind of question we're hoping to avoid" said Cyrus. "This hearing has got us between a rock and a hard place."

"A can of worms," Olivia murmured under her breath.

Fitz glanced at Olivia. "Hungry birds," he whispered back, prompting a giggle.

Cyrus looked from one to the other, then said grimly, "We need to bring this enquiry inhouse. We can control the message if the Attorney General looked into the matter. The warring factions in Congress has the potential to unearth all kinds of horrors, not just the waste in defence spending."

"The Attorney-General didn't want to touch this with a 10-foot pole, but Congress will jump at the chance for face time at a televised hearing. We just have to hope they keep the focus on racial bias."

Cyrus and Olivia exchanged a look, which made Fitz smile wryly. "Ah, I knew my naïve optimism would unite your scepticism."

Olivia chuckled, slipping her arm through his as Cyrus rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his sparsely covered head.

Just then there was a knock and Zeke poked his head around the door, "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, come on in," Fitz invited as Cyrus threw up his hands and got to his feet with an impatient shake of his head.

"What's his problem?" Zeke said as Cyrus stormed out muttering under his breath, then without waiting for an answer, he grinned at Olivia, "Look at you, all loved up and gorgeous!"

Laughing, Olivia got to her feet, feeling a delicious shiver as Fitz slid his hand from her waist down the length of her thigh to rest below her knee. "I have to go," she murmured, huskily meeting his soft gaze.

Zeke chuckled. "Oh don't go on account of me, sweetheart. I need you to stay and distract Fitz so he doesn't pay close attention to what I have to say."

"What are you going to say?" Fitz murmured, surreptitiously rubbing the back of Olivia's knee with his thumb.

"The Defence Lobby is threatening Armageddon. They've heard rumours the Hearing's going to focus on war games more than white cops killing black kids. They ain't happy about that. Not one bit. They're going straight for the Blockbuster scenario – millions of jobs lost, industry collapse and the US looking like Afghanistan after Operation Enduring Freedom when the axis of evil finds out we've got water-pistols to fight off their nuclear arsenal."

"Okay, that sounds way too serious for Baby Grant, so I have to go." Olivia stepped away from Fitz's teasing caress. Then kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his lips, managing to evade his grasp when he wanted to catch hold of her.

"Man, you are so far gone, it don't look like you're ever coming back." Olivia heard Zeke mutter as she was closing the door behind her.

"I'm a goner," confirmed Fitz sounding happy, as she shut the door on Zeke's belly laugh.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" Lauren asked in concern when Olivia stood for a moment resting her hand against the panelling.

"I'm fine," Olivia smiled, blinking swiftly, "I just forgot my shoes."

"Oh let me get them for you," Lauren was out of her chair but Olivia shook her head.

"No, it's more comfortable if I go barefoot."

* * *

><p>Olivia was heading back to the Residence when she got a call on her cell phone.<p>

"Abby?"

"This isn't Abby. It's Nancy Drake."

Olivia raised a brow, surprise prompting her to ask bluntly. "How did you get this number?"

"Quinn dialled it for me. We need to talk"

"Have you found another body in your bed?"

It took Nancy several moments to reply. When she did, it was in a voice as cold as the Arctic. "Did you know that Melody Grant wanted my help in calling you out as a homewrecker?"

This time it was Olivia who took time to respond. "…No, I didn't know that."

"She wanted a Christian sister to be the first to throw mud and make it stick. If I had done that, her hands would have been clean and there would be no evidence she'd pulled my strings." Nancy paused, before adding, "But I'm no one's puppet."

The silence that followed became awkward until finally Nancy Drake broke it abruptly. "There's talk the investigation into police misconduct will get swept under the rug. The mothers in my congregation are concerned."

"I didn't know you'd become an ordained minister."

"Not yet. I'm working on it. I should have said the mothers in Pastor Drake's congregation. I still keep in close contact with them."

"I'm not sure how I can help."

"Olivia, I'm glad the President has taken on your initiative. I never thought so much good could come from a man in love with his wife. A man in love with you, Olivia…"

Olivia blinked furiously, rubbing a hand over her belly.

Nancy Drake continued unaware, "…But we cannot have you stepping back into the shadows. We need you to be more than a wife, mother and fashion icon. We need you to be the woman who stood in front of the White House gates and faced those men in white hoods. We need you to speak your truth."

Olivia sighed. "I tried but I'll be opening a can of worms that Fitz can't afford right now."

Nancy took a moment to respond, then she said in a milder tone. "This country has always been divided along racial lines; beyond black and white. The can of worms you're talking about, is putrid. It needs to be opened and shown the light of day."

"It's an election year for Fitz."

"From where I'm standing, it's clear the President wants to go down fighting for what he believes in, and protecting those he loves. In the process, if all he has to lose is the next election, he is fortunate. So many others have lost their lives fighting the good fight."

"Fitz was shot."

"By that lunatic of a wife who wanted to give him a lobotomy."

When Olivia didn't respond, Nancy took a deep breath and continued, "The President has the advantage of speaking about an emotive issue without being called emotional because he is a man. He has the advantage of speaking about injustice against minorities without being accused of taking things personally. But this is an emotional issue that is close to home. You will not be standing alone, Olivia. Let us speak with you. We must speak; our silence is not helping the children who are losing the freedom to leave home without fear of harm. There is no better time than now…"

"I'm not sure government intervention is best…"

"Because God helps those who help themselves? If ever that were true, you must know that in this country we have systematically taken away people's ability to create change for themselves. Besides, the government steps in when there is a storm or a fire. This firestorm has been raging for centuries, Olivia, and we need help putting it out…"

* * *

><p>Deep in thought, Olivia had just reached the stairs when a voice called out,<p>

"Hey, Cinderella."

She turned with a smile to see Fitz walking up to her with her shoes in his hands.

"Your regular shoe service."

"This is getting to be a habit," Olivia chuckled, resting her hands on his shoulders as he sat on the bottom step and helped her into her shoes.

"I'm not complaining," Fitz murmured, tugging her down to sit beside him. "Who were you talking to on the phone? The conversation looked serious."

"Nancy Drake." At Fitz's confused look, she added, "Pastor Drake's wife."

"You're still in touch with her? How's Anna?"

"Doing well. Nancy's taken them under her wing. She has a big heart like someone else I know," Olivia murmured, sliding her arms around his waist.

He kissed her mouth, then pressed his lips to her forehead.. "So what did Nancy Drake want? Did she find another body?"

A laugh gusted out of Olivia. "That's what I said but she didn't see the humour."

Fitz waited, but when Olivia kept smiling he urged softly, "Livvie…?"

Olivia sighed. "She wants me to speak my truth. The truth that we're still seen as nothing more than the Three Fifths Compromise written in Article 1 of the Constitution. The truth that being born a minority doesn't guarantee citizen access to the Fourth and Fourteenth amendments. The truth that the Thirteenth might as well be invisible."

Fitz stared at her, a frown gathering on his brow. "Olivia…"

She leaned in, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Nancy's right, Fitz. Money is being taken away from the many to be given to the few. Poverty is a crime and protests are banned. Since we've made it impossible for people to help themselves we need to step up. It's what you would do if there was a natural disaster like Hurricane Katrina or Sandy. "

Fitz let his gaze wander over Olivia face and he released a heavy sigh. 'You know there are days that I wish you didn't have the urge to fix things."

She snuffled a laugh. "Then we're even, because there are days I wish you weren't President."

He gave a wry smile. "So what are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided." She looked at his mouth so temptingly near.

"You need thinking time," he whispered.

"Oh, do I now?"

"In the bath," he added to her laughter. "Can you delay it by an hour because I left Zeke waiting, to come find you?"

"I can think on my own," she teased.

"Yeah but two heads are better than one."

Then as he helped her up off the stairs, Fitz held onto Olivia's hands tugging her forward to rest against him. "You never did tell me what you did to the Business Council to have them running scared."

"My guys found the access codes to their secret bank accounts in Europe and the Caribbean. Accounts that were being used to bribe, threaten and at times topple legislators in foreign countries opposed to Corporate America in their backyard. But it wasn't being found out, that got them worried."

"It was losing all that money."

"Yep. Those accounts were closed the minute those guys walked out of here, but we know where the money went."

"Thinking of passing those details onto the IRS?"

She stared at him solemnly.

"Livvie…"

"I need a few rabbits up my sleeve, baby."

* * *

><p>When Olivia reached the top of the stairs, she saw Karen walking along the corridor, peering through open doorways.<p>

"K?"

Karen's slightly worried face lit up with a smile as she came running towards Olivia and hugged her.

"Guess what, Mom?"

"The man in the moon is not made of green cheese?"

Karen gurgled a laugh. "No silly Mommy, I spoke about Ruby Bridges in class. Now the other kids want to do a project about kids like Ruby, Malala Yousafzai and Anne Frank. We're going to call it 'Old Enough to Change the World'."

"Wow." Olivia murmured, stroking a hand over Karen's flyaway hair.

"I know right." Karen said happily. "I didn't know a little thing like that could make a difference."

Olivia looked down at Karen, and cupped her face. "You know what? You've given me an idea."

"I have?"

Olivia nodded. "I'll tell you at dinner. Right now I have to get ready to run a bath."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Weeks later, an Interfaith Update on Compass (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)…<strong>_

… _Faraway County has resurrected the American civil rights movement made famous by Reverend Dr Martin Luther King Jr in the Sixties. The incident involving a police officer and an unarmed teenager, has created a people's movement that is spreading across the world …_

_Back in America, church groups are adding their voices to the chorus for justice by promoting a rather unusual campaign. Called 'Protect Our Children', the campaign has mothers and fathers revealing their personal tragedies with the slogan, 'I could not save my child, help us save yours'. These parents say they are spreading the word about a silent epidemic – the trauma and death their kids have suffered after random contact with police…._

_Parents of black, white, Hispanic, Asian, able and disabled victims are rallying behind the campaign, funded by private donations. It was launched at last Sunday's service in a Washington DC church, with First Lady, Olivia Pope and First Daughter Karen Grant, in the congregation… "_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Days later…<strong>_

Cyrus was turning off the lights in his office when his cell phone rang.

"Howdy, pardner."

"I was just leaving."

"Well now, ain't that the luck of the devil? I was just callin' to see if you had any plans for tonight?"

"Yes."

"What's got you so riled up?" Hollis asked cheerfully. "Wouldn't be the bright shining light that is Olivia P Gant now, would it?"

"No."

"Sounds like you need to take a load off, bud. Why don't you tell me all about over a beer? It's been a month of Sundays since we've chewed the fat. Not since Fitzy boy battened down the hatches against the Olivia backlash. Even Pennsylvania Avenue is a no-go zone."

"Are you calling to complain about increased security?"

"Now why would I speak to the poodle instead of its owner about the backyard fence?"

"Goodnight, Hollis."

"Hold your horses! That was a joke, Cy. You need to loosen up. That beer I mentioned would be mighty helpful in that direction. It might be the last cold one you'll get before Fitzy Boy tanks your career."

"I don't drink beer."

An hour later, Cyrus glanced out at the diner window where two SUVs were parked. The accompanying security for Hollis and Secret Service for Cyrus stood facing each other, legs akimbo and hands clasped in front, between the vehicles.

"Is there a reason you got me here at this ungodly hour to drink dishwater that passes for coffee." Cyrus eyed his coffee cup which bore the faint lipstick stain of the last drinker.

"Now, Cyrus, don't let the smell of grease and the ketchup stains on the table fool you. This joint serves the best Getty's burgers in town."

"It's two in the morning."

"What's that got to do with price of bacon?"

Cyrus stared bug-eyed at Hollis then sat back. "Why are we here?"

"You know Fitzy Boy is turning out to be a real Teflon kid. You seen the polls? People _like_ the big ticket items the man keeps pulling out of his butt: gun control, minimum wage, homeless veterans! They should be blowing up in his face but like a gotdamn Midas, Fitzgerald Grant is turning those grade-A turds into nuggets of gold. That's giving me heartburn, Cyrus."

"I would have put it down to greasy burgers myself."

"Hell, I get heartburn drinking carrot juice! Fitzgerald is leading in the polls! The ones the Murdoch press ain't tellin' people about. And he's doing it as an Independent. Do you know what that means – we've got a loose cannon making loose canonship look great! That ain't good for democracy! We need Presidents who can be kept under control by their parties! We don't need Presidents who get their problems fixed by their itty bitty wives. Hell, they even make charitable donations look like a public service instead of a tax deduction!"

"The money for _Protect Our Children_ came from Olivia's personal account because she didn't want Fitz to have to explain her public spending at a Presidential debate. Olivia isn't another Imelda Marcos."

"No she's a gotdamn Eva Peron throwing good money after bad. We can't protect our children, we need protection from them!" Hollis paused as the waitress ambled by to top up his coffee. Then he leaned across the table again. "Fitzy Boy is linin' up to kick a fresh turd on a hot day with this Congressional Hearing on police and judicial misconduct. We know minorities get the butt-end of the stick – that's what they're there for. You don't need no Congressional Hearing to confirm what we already know!"

Hollis reached for his coffee as Cyrus glanced out the diner window. "It's getting late. I've got an early start this morning."

Hollis put his cup down slowly and smiled. "Ah, I see the preview wasn't entertainin' enough. So let me be cut to the chase. You think you're riding ahead of the herd with Fitzgerald hitting a polling high? Have you thought about what your life would be like if he wins? You're already a gofer. You've been wiping his ass and blowin' his nose since he was a Republican-in-training, but now he's got Olivia. You know what's worse than a loose cannon, it's a lovestruck loose cannon and the man ain't even ashamed to admit it. I hear he chucked the National Security Council out for some nookey with the wife. Now I ain't blaming the man, twenty years married to the ice queen and I'd be testing my gonads every second I got, but we can't have the man ruinin' the economy! No one gets rich making daisy chains and tie-dying T-shirts with peace signs, unless they're selling weed on the side."

Cyrus looked bored. "Your profiteering is none of my business."

Hollis chortled. "My profiteering as you call it is keeping your retirement fund padded with the finest cotton. How's baby Ella going to go to college if God-Daddy Fitz nukes your investment portfolio which is knee-deep in military contractors?"

As Cyrus scowled, Hollis picked up his cup again and took a leisurely sip. "Do you know there are towns in the great US of A that don't have a SWAT team in their police department? Faraway County was helping the fence straddlers re-think their Woodstock attitude and go Waco. But now with Olivia and Fitzgerald cheerleading public stupidity, the guys who've got the equipment want to give it back. That's making a lot of fine folk mighty unhappy, Cy. No one likes having to tighten their belts because Hippies have taken over the White House."

Hollis reached for an onion ring fresh from the basket that was placed at his elbow, popped it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "You know what we need to turn this around. We need a war."

Cyrus knocked over his coffee. Then there was a general ruckus cleaning it up before it dropped onto their clothes.

"What? Are you _insane_?" Cyrus looked around.

"Don't worry that old bird can't hear worth a damn; she refuses to turn on her hearing aide."

Cyrus leaned forward and muttered, "A _war_?"

"Hell, yes. Nothing like a war to bring out the bulls. The money market bull-run will put the Spanish to shame. And as a bonus, no president has been elected for initiating a war, not unless they are a gotdamn Republican or in Australia."

"And how are we proposing to do that. It's not like we can create a world crisis on a whim."

"Dubya went to war accusing Saddam of hiding Weapons of Mass Destruction when there weren't none."

"He had 9/11 to trigger public support," Cyrus hissed, red in the face.

Hollis released a gusty sigh. "Gotdamn pity we don't have time to train another crazy loon and set him loose on the world. Unless you've got a tame terrorist group you can call on in an emergency?"

"We're not going to get the CIA involved."

"I said 'tame', Cy, not a bunch of gotdamn renegades. Guess we'll have to improvise."

Cyrus looked at Hollis warily. "What did you have in mind?"

Hollis smiled. "It's time to Wag the Dog, Cy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, thank YOU ALL for all the support as well as discouragement. I do adore writing for this fandom but the guest was right about the last chapter, in the sense I did choose a clumsy plot device to get my point across. But being a shoot first-ask questions later kind of person I only realised that several days later, after putting my ruffled ego aside.**

**Having said that, and with ego firmly back on board, I've decided against making sacred cows of political processes and procedures, mostly because I'm ignorant of them and Google search isn't as forthcoming as it used to be. Not sure if that's ASIO or NSA's fault but I'm going to blame both. (Not my inane keyword searches of '_how long does it take to organise a Congressional Hearing', 'is overnight too soon'? 'Can we pretend we're dealing with Mayflies_?')**

**BTW, I did make a passing reference to Zeke's partner in the media during the Indian state visit (Chapter 35 in the Al Jazeera post). James and Cyrus were 'outed' during Sally's 21-day siege.**

**Now for this chapter, the 1033 Program is real. I saw it mentioned in Ferguson posts on Tumblr, and decided to make a whole chapter of it. Actually most of the info is thanks to the ACLU and Nick O'Malley of the _Sydney Morning Herald_ who made a nice easy list:**

**America's new arms race**

**In 1990 the Pentagon sent $1 million in military equipment to police.**

**In 2013 the Pentagon sent $450 million in military equipment to police.**

**Since the 1033 program began the Pentagon has sent more than $4.3 billion in military equipment to police.**

**One-third of all military equipment sent to police is new, raising questions about Pentagon waste.**

**Fargo, North Dakota, spent $8 million on military equipment for police, though the area averages only two murders a year since 2005.**

**More than 60 per cent of SWAT raids investigated by the ACLU involved a search for drugs.**

**68 per cent of SWAT raids against minorities were conducted in a search for drugs, only 38 per cent of such raids against whites were in search for drugs.**

**In 1984 about 26 per cent of U.S. towns with a population between 25,000-50,000 had a SWAT team.**

**By 2005 about 80 per cent of US towns with a population between 25,000-50,000 had a SWAT team.**

**Almost 90 per cent of larger towns now have a SWAT team.**

**At least 54 per cent of all botched SWAT raids are conducted against ethnic minorities.**

**In 2011 and 2012 nearly 80 per cent of all SWAT raids were conducted under a search warrant, meaning the targets were only suspects, not active shooters or hostage-takers.**

**There are roughly 137 SWAT searches every day in the U.S., or about 50,000 a year, according to Professor Pete Kraska of Eastern Kentucky University's School of Justice Studies.**

**28 per cent of all arrests in the US involve an African-American.**

**35 per cent of all arrests that result in the death of the suspect involve an African-American.**

**Source: various ACLU reports - _How the US police in Ferguson became a militarised unit equipped for war_ (X) **

**The church group campaign was inspired by Australian churches rallying against the current Australian government's anti-refugee stance. Actually the churches have been vocally and pictorially anti-government as a whole! One even going as far as to have a street mural of Abbott as the devil outside its gates. Oh and Compass is an actual program, which I have misappropriated with other facts for this story.**

**Now dear readers, I have to say the next chapter will be posted sometime in November because it's that time of year again when I start questioning my life choices – i.e. having to study for final exams in subjects I barely understand for a career I'm trying to avoid.**

**Until then, stay happy and curse Olake.**

**Here are my other references for anyone else who might find them useful:**

**US police departments are increasingly militarised, finds report (X)**

**How the US police in Ferguson became a militarised unit equipped for war (X)**

**Michael Brown shooting: US to review militarisation of police in aftermath of Ferguson riots (X)**

**Ferguson police: a stark illustration of newly militarised US law enforcement (X) Now Pentagon Militarizing CAMPUS Police – Armored Vehicles, Dozens of Assault Rifles (X) Missouri politicians welcome Obama review of militarised police (X) Why America's police forces look like invading armies (X) Trends in U.S. Military Spending (X) Obama Urged to End Military Spending Caps to Fight ISIS (X) America's staggering defense budget, in charts (X) 'Take back our tanks': Police can't get rid of military gear in Ferguson aftermath (X)**

** /usa/192040-police-return-excess-equipment-pentagon/ (X)**

**Ferguson aftermath: California city tells cops to get rid of armored vehicle (X) Police Want to Get Rid of Their Pentagon-Issued Combat Gear. Here's Why They Can't. (X)**

**Arms sales: who are the world's 100 top arms producers? (X)**

**The best influence money can buy - the 10 Worst Corporate Lobbyists (X)**

**Military budget of the United States (X)**

**Military spending: how much does the military cost each country, listed (X)**

**The New Mandate on Defense (X)**

**How the Defense Lobby Became Irrelevant (X)**

**Military firms likely to benefit from airstrikes in Iraq, Syria (X)**

**Wag the Dog**

**Congressional Hearings and Procedures (X) **

**Congressional Intelligence Committees Should Let Public See Their Work (X)**

**"How to Survive a Congressional Investigation" (X) **

**Federal law enforcement in the United States (X)**

**Law enforcement in the United States (X)**

**More Colorful Texas Sayings… (X)**

**White House Schedule (X)**

**Three-Fifths Compromise (X)**


	41. Warmongers R US

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC blah blah blah. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

**Also this story will dive into lots of preaching, WTF and sharks ahoy!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Morning Talk Show…<strong>_

"…_Days before the Congressional Hearing on Police and Judicial Misconduct, we have more news of the law giving police the right to violate our civil liberties…_

"_Since 2008, the police have spent $2.8 billion on expensive coffee machines, and black-tie dinners. Where did they get that money, you ask? They got that money from us, Mr and Ms Average Tax Payer, but that money wasn't for café lattes, no that money was allocated by the government to catch criminals…_

"_And if that wasn't bad enough, we have daylight robbery on top of the rorting. The Justice Department has a so-called Equitable Sharing Program which lets the police keep up to 80 per cent of the cash they take off you in a highway stop and seizure. Guess who gets the other 20 per cent, yep, the Justice Department. Sure sounds equitable to me. Especially when the victims of police 'Robbing Hoods' have to sign a waiver that they won't sue to get their money back…"_

* * *

><p>In the Oval Office Dining Room, Fitz flicked through a report, reading facts and figures out loud. "Under the Equitable Sharing Program, there have been 61,998 cash seizures since 911. They've collected more than $2.5 billion. Of this total the states and local authorities kept $1.7 billion and the Justice, Homeland and the other Fed agencies got $800 million. From what this says, the money was taken without search warrants or indictments."

"The key word there is 9/11," Cyrus muttered, pouring more coffee into his cup, the dark liquid slopping onto the saucer under Fitz's inimical stare. "The Equitable Sharing Program was meant to get state and local police to be the nation's 'eyes and ears of homeland security on America's highways'."

"But without oversight, they've become the Robbing Hoods of the Highway." Fitz pushed the folder away and rubbed a hand over his face. "I keep inheriting the sins of my forebears that I didn't even know existed. How many more are going to surface before the Hearing even begins?"

"It's what will surface during the Hearing that worries me. With an election on the horizon, this is not the time for America to get a wake-up call. I'm worried they'll shoot the messenger with their votes."

Barely had Cyrus paused, than a National Security Advisor stormed into the room looking a little harassed, "Sir, we have a problem." He grabbed the remote and switched the television on.

"_**Breaking News**__… we're getting reports from our Africa bureau chief that two car bombs have gone off at the US Embassies in_ _Manzania and Denya…_"

Fitz was out of his seat and out of the room. _"LAUREN!"_

Ten minutes later in the Situation Room, Fitz stood facing a screen with multiple video links, while his advisors and department heads perched on the conference table behind him. An intelligence chief was speaking, "Sir, it's like finding Waldo. We get a hundred thousand warnings a day about potential attacks to American military or civilian targets. Most of them turn out to be a hoax. As a precaution, we did get the State Department to issue its usual travel advisory telling our citizens to be careful when travelling to the Middle East."

"The bombs went off in Africa, and from what I hear most of those killed are Africans."

"Yes, sir."

The Secretary of State stepped forward, "Our disaster and anti-terrorism teams are mobilising for departure to the affected region. The White House Press Corps are waiting in the Press Briefing Room. They'll want to know who, why and when we knew about it."

"Do we know who?" Cyrus asked, adjusting his collar. "Has someone already claimed responsibility?"

"Is it the Kashfarians again?" Fitz added with a frown.

"We've had no confirmation as yet, sir, but it's got to be another Islamic Jihadist splinter group. It's always one of them."

"I need to speak to the families of embassy and military staff killed in the blasts," Fitz said heavily, getting to his feet.

He left the room. Cyrus stood briefly, then sat down again, reaching out to pick at the edges of the empty Styrofoam cup in front of him.

* * *

><p>After Fitz finished the last call, the Oval Office door opened quietly. Olivia walked in to find Fitz staring into space, his hair mussed, his eyes tortured.<p>

Even after she was snug in his arms, settled comfortably in his lap, it took several minutes before he spoke.

"It doesn't get any easier with practice."

She stroked his cheek tenderly. "It shouldn't."

He gave her a rueful smile. "The families want to release the names of the dead."

"Around 100 people are reported to have died."

"I've spoken to the families of the eight Americans who were killed. We still have around 20 missing, buried under the rubble of the neighbouring office buildings."

There was a knock on the door and Cyrus entered. After a brief glance at Olivia, he focused on Fitz. "The Pentagon is organising an inter-agency rescue team from a military base in Europe and flying a medical assistance team from Andrews Air Force Base. Those would be good talking points for the press briefing."

"Of course, the press briefing," Fitz said drily. "Let the media circus begin."

Getting to her feet, Olivia helped Fitz out of his chair. "You make a very fine ringmaster."

With a glimmer of a smile, Fitz brushed a kiss on her lips, as she adjusted his tie and straightened the lapels of his jacket. Then after giving her another lingering kiss, he rounded the desk and strode out of the room.

Following behind, with Cyrus at her side, Olivia asked, "Do they know who did this?"

"The general consensus is that it's another Jihadist group."

* * *

><p><strong>World News Update<strong>

'_At the last count, 2000 people had been injured and 100 were reported dead in the car bomb attacks at the US embassies in Manzania and Denya. [video footage of rescuers shifting rubble looking for survives in the shattered building]_

'_US President Grant has called the loss of human life an incomprehensible tragedy. "We will not let innocent Americans be killed for no reason other than they are American. We will leave no stone unturned to bring the perpetrators to justice." He also denied that the Federal Intelligence agencies had ignored warnings of an impending attack in the region. _

'_Republican Presidential hopeful, Mrs Sally Langston, said the terrorist attacks were a reminder that the world is a dangerous place and that greater surveillance and counter-terrorism efforts were needed. 'We need to increase the defence spending budget, we need more troops protecting the lives of our people doing God's work'._

"_Democratic Presidential front-runner, Governor Samuel Reston said the US Administration couldn't afford to drop the ball on foreign threats because of domestic civilian upheaval. 'While domestic issues like Faraway Count are important to the national psyche, this is a reminder that all Americans must be kept safe, wherever we are in the world'._

"_Congressional sources who spoke on condition of anonymity said the timing couldn't be better to show the American public that the real threats to National Security would always come from outside National Borders; they added that the Grant Administration would be well advised to shift focus from the muck-raking in America's backyard to the much greater threats posed by terrorism …"_

* * *

><p>"Man, those bastards have been looking for any excuse to sweep Police Brutality under the rug. And now they've got a legit reason to do it." Zeke scowled as he caught the news on his phone.<p>

Fitz was back in the Oval Office, surrounded by his advisors, drafting an emergency assistance package. The leaders of the two African States needed help coping with the tragedy that was stretching their resources. He also had an open line to the Pentagon, where officials were coordinating efforts to temporarily shift troop presence from the military bases in the Middle East to diplomatic missions in Africa.

"Déjà vu," Cyrus murmured leaning close to Olivia, who was sitting on the couch with a cushion held protectively over her belly.

"What?"

"Mellie was pregnant with America's Baby when we had that little problem in Sudan. Now here we are with another delicate situation in Africa, and you're pregnant."

"Are you trying to remind me that I'm ornamental not functional, Cyrus?"

Casting a glance at Fitz, Cyrus lowered his voice even further as he added, "No, I was just pointing out the coincidence. I found it interesting. That's all."

"I'm more interested in the fact these highly-organised attacks happened in a couple of countries that haven't been on our intelligence radar for known terrorist activity," Olivia returned.

Cyrus looked at her oddly as Zeke turned his attention from his phone to Olivia.

Then everyone's attention turned towards the door as a harassed-looking staffer burst in to announce, "There has been another bombing. This time at the Australian diplomatic mission."

* * *

><p>Olivia was sitting up in bed, reading when Fitz entered.<p>

"What are you doing awake?" He said without heat as he tossed his jacket on the nearest chair.

"Waiting for you." Olivia put the book beside the digital clock, showing the time as a minute past midnight.

"Liv." Fitz shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and socks.

Kneeling behind him, Liv slid her arms around him, her hands deftly undoing his shirt. "I had a long nap this afternoon while you were meeting with the Cabinet. Besides Baby Grant is restless."

"Blaming it on Baby. I need to remember that," Fitz murmured as he turned to tease her lips with a tired smile.

When the shirt and under-shirt had been flung aside, she watched as he stood to remove the rest of his clothing. "How did it go with the Australian Prime Minister?"

"The man is a fool. He wants us to go to war but we don't even know who the enemy is yet. He's talking up austerity in his country while building up a war chest worth $4 billion. Already the Australian government has splashed out on everything from military aircraft to ammunition. Our defence contractors are happy but I doubt the Australian public will be when they see the bill."

"So we've got a big boy who wants to play with his war toys," Olivia said huskily, letting her gaze wander over Fitz's naked body. "His US-made war toys. Looks like the one per cent are about to hit another war bonanza."

"Mm…" Fitz murmured vaguely, reaching out to tug at the belt of her robe.

"I thought you were tired," she whispered, sliding her hands over his bare chest.

"Exhausted," he muttered, bending to kiss her neck. "You'll have to do all the work."

"Listen, mister, you've already got me doing all the heavy-lifting in this relationship."

He snuffled a laugh, nudging closer. "I'll give you a raise."

"Fitz!" she protested, in between giggles. Then gurgled a laugh when he lifted her up and kissed her.

* * *

><p>Fitz didn't wake as he usually did to ask groggily if she was okay, when Olivia eased out of bed for her usual pre-dawn bathroom break.<p>

"Daddy's out for the count. We tired him out," Olivia murmured, rubbing a hand over her belly. "Or maybe it's the country that's tiring him… Oh! You agree with that?" She smiled, rubbing her hand over the spot where the baby had moved. "You're right. Things have been real crazy this year. Daddy has been running around shutting down all kinds of trouble and now he has to deal with this." Olivia finished her business, flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash her hands.

Then reaching for the hand lotion, she mused, "So what do you think about the situation in Africa? Two attacks coming out of nowhere and happening around the same time. Do you think the Kashfarians are behind this again? No? I didn't think so. You're a real smart kid. You're going to fit right into this family."

Hearing a sleepy chuckle, she turned to see Fitz leaning against the door jamb watching her.

"Go back to bed," Olivia shook her head at him. "You look dead on your feet."

Drawing her into his arms as she approached the door, he rubbed noses with her. "Are you talking politics with our unborn child?"

"Baby Grant will have to hit the ground running with Jerry and Karen leading the charge," she murmured, as he bent low to brush a kiss on her smiling mouth..

"I was hoping our newest addition would be laid-back and placid like Teddy."

"Oh you think Teddy's placid?" Olivia leaned back to give him a pert look. "Guess you missed the turf war he broke up between Darth and Rex."

"Teddy broke up a dog fight?"

"He threw his stuffed bear at them. Then banged the table so hard with his sippy cup, they took fright and ran away."

"Maybe I need to take the little man to my next cabinet meeting."

Olivia laughed, taking him by the hand and leading him back to bed. It wasn't until they were spooning under the covers that Fitz murmured thoughtfully in her ear. "So who do you think is behind the embassy attacks?"

"Someone who wants a war to distract public attention away from the Congressional Hearing." She paused, "That's just what my gut is telling me. I have no hard evidence."

Fitz was silent, his hand rubbing her belly.

Then Olivia felt his arm grow heavy around her and his light snore tickled her ear.

* * *

><p>James came into the dining room to find Cyrus with a glass of clear liquid by his elbow, as he looked through the photo album of Ella's christening.<p>

"Whatever is bothering you, you need to talk about it." James drew out a chair and sat down slowly. "You're not sleeping and I'm worried."

Cyrus closed the photo album and sat back. "How would you feel about visiting your husband in maximum security prison when he's convicted of crimes against the state?" Seeing James glance towards the glass on the table, he added, "It's water."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Cyrus wiped a hand over his face, then folded his arms across his chest. "I thought it would work. We needed something to stop the monster truck pile-up that was going to happen with this Congressional Hearing." He sat forward. "But it looks like I'm going to be found out. They'll know what I did."

"What did you do?"

Cyrus looked at James, hesitated, then picked up his glass. "Forget I said anything."

James caught his arm. "Tell me. I need to know."

"It's nothing," Cyrus yanked his arm away, barely managing to avoid a spill. Then quickly draining the glass, he got to his feet.

"Did you make a deal with the devil; has Sally Langston made you an offer you couldn't refuse or did you take a bribe from the Cosh Brothers?"

"Forget it, James. I'm tired. I wasn't thinking straight." Cyrus offered a smile, which James didn't return.

"You were looking at Ella's Christening photos? What does this have to do with Ella?"

"Nothing. Not anymore," Cyrus sighed, before heading out of the room with James frowning as he watched him leave.

* * *

><p>"What you got?" Zeke asked, looking across the table at Oscar, in the dining room of Number One Observatory Circle.<p>

"Not a lot. It's like looking for a damned needle in haystack," Oscar sighed. "They really do get thousands of tipoffs."

"Looks like we have to look for the money trail. If there was activity on the ground, somebody got paid. What about you guys?"

In the OPA offices in DC, the associates looked at each other, then back at the screen. "We got sent this by one of our ex-clients. I'm emailing the link now," Abby said. "Some random motorist took this picture with his camera phone and put it on Facebook for private viewing. Called it 'Mafia meet-up at Hope's Diner'. Then the account was deactivated but not before our client saved a copy."

Opening the link, Zeke frowned, "I'm looking at a bunch of guys having a face off. Is that it?"

"Zoom in on the window behind the cars."

"Is that… Cyrus?"

"Yeah, with that snake Hollis," Quinn spat.

"Hollis knows how to keep his hands clean. And he isn't usually this careless," Huck frowned.

"What are you saying? He's trying to fry Cyrus' ass? That might not be such a bad idea." Zeke said. "I've a mind to help him."

"Not if he does something to harm Olivia in the process." Huck frowned.

"And the President," Quinn added.

"Don't forget the baby! If those two do anything to Olivia and the baby, I'll go after them both with my own gun!" Abby got out of her seat and started pacing.

"We don't know what they're up to," Oscar reasoned.

"Nothing good," Quinn supplied.

"Do we tell the President?" Huck asked.

Zeke shook his head. "No. He's got enough on his plate right now."

"We have to tell Olivia."

"Not just yet."

* * *

><p>A couple of days later...<p>

"What's taking so long? Why hasn't Fitzgerald pulled the gotdamn trigger?" Hollis shouted over the prepaid mobile phone that Cyrus had obtained for 'Operation Divert Attention'.

"Look the only way, he'd spring into action is if knew what was going on beforehand. This has been a shock to the system and he's trying to sort out the mess without causing more damage." Cyrus dropped an antacid into a glass of water and watched it dissolve. "But he might get a war sooner than he wants; the Australians are pushing for it. They're already sending military personnel over there to be on stand-by. Fitz maybe strong-armed into a military assault before he knows what's going on."

"Yeah, that was a stroke of luck. I told those guys to bomb the Austrian Embassy so we could get the Europeans on board, but they got confused and bombed the Australians."

"Genius." Hollis said drily, picking up his glass.

"Oh you ain't seen nothin' yet. Hold the applause until I roll out Act II."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News….<strong>_

"_A group claiming to be the Warriors of Mass Destruction have released a video confessing to the US embassy attacks in Denya and Manzania. The group says more attacks will be carried out at the diplomatic missions of 'western oppressors' if the US infidels don't pull out all troops from the Holy Land of Mecca and stop funding Israel's genocide in Gaza…" _

* * *

><p>'Sir, one of our field officers sent this over an hour ago." A CIA official handed Fitz a report.<p>

Pentagon and Intelligence officials were meeting with Fitz in the Situation Room, where Fitz was having an extended security briefing.

"It's the results of a test we did on a soil sample found outside a factory in Lushan."

Fitz paused, frowning "What's Lushan got to do with the embassy bombings?"

A Pentagon official butted in. "It's an Islamic State. There's a credible link between the Warriors of Mass Destruction and the government of Lushan. Can we afford another 9/11 on our hands? If we don't destroy that chemical factory, we could have a devastating chemical war on our hands, threatening even more US military and civilian lives."

"This report says it's a registered pharmaceutical company."

The CIA director spoke up. "The chemical agent we found, EMPTA, is not used for commercial purposes. It's a key ingredient in the deadly VX nerve gas. If you thought people jumping out of the Twin Towers to escape being burned alive. Then imagine what it would be like to have a pandemic of people exposed to a highly toxic nerve gas that causes convulsions, paralysis and respiratory failure leading to certain death in extreme cases."

The FBI Director waited a beat before adding, "Sir, the factory is owned by a Saudi Businessman who supports terrorists. We've been tracking the payments he's been making from his Bank of America account. The money has been going to charities that we believe are supporting terror cells in Iraq and Afghanistan."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Politics Today – cable news now network <strong>_

"_Retired US General Dave Grey today said the Warriors of Mass Destruction were bad news. 'These are trained killers without a conscience. You can't reason with people like this, not when their language of communication is bullets and bombs. The President needs to understand that. I've fought against maniacs like this. I know how they think. And I know that we need a broad strategy to deal with this group. We need to wipe them out. And by that I mean, total annihilation'._

'_These words were echoed by former administrators in both the Bush and Clinton Administrations said it was important to increase defence capabilities not just in the Middle East but also Africa…."_

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon before Fitz had a spare moment to go in search of Olivia, eventually finding her in James' office, on the floor with Teddy, Ella and James.<p>

"Got a minute?" he asked Olivia, who glanced over with a smile.

"Uh," James scrambled to his feet, lifting Ella in his arms. "I need to see someone about something." He'd almost reached the door before he paused, casting his glance back to Fitz and Olivia. "Would you like me to take Teddy as well?"

"To see someone about something?" Fitz asked with a faint smile.

"Yes."

Fitz shook his head, "I haven't seen much of Teddy for the last couple of days. I have a lot of catching up to do."

As the door closed behind James, Fitz hunkered down on the floor beside Olivia. "Hi."

"Hi." Olivia reached out to brush a fallen curl back from his forehead, just as Teddy dropped the baby-friendly tablet in his hands and scrambled off Olivia's lap to fling himself in Fitz's arms.

Laughing, Fitz collapsed back onto the rug letting Teddy crawl over him. Ten minutes later, with Teddy sitting on his middle, distracted by the tablet again, Fitz looked over at Olivia watching him with a soft smile on her face.

She shifted close so Fitz could lay his head in her lap without disturbing Teddy. Then after he'd placed a soft kiss on her belly, Fitz sighed, "They want me to attack a chemical weapons plant in Lushan, to prevent another attack."

"Lushan?" Olivia stroked her fingers though his hair, gently massaging his scalp. "I thought we were supposed to be looking for Jidhadists."

"The factory is owned by a Saudi Businessman with known links to Al Qaeda, according to the FBI. The CIA has found traces of a chemical agent used in nerve gas in soil samples taken from the factory compound. Meanwhile, the Lushan government has reiterated it's a medicine factory."

Olivia stayed silent, stroking his hair. After a long pause, Fitz gave another heavy sigh, "The vultures are circling and I'm getting pushed towards a war I don't want."

Before Olivia could respond, there was a knock and a White House aide popped her head around the door, smiling apologetically at the three faces staring at her. "Mr President, sir, Mr Beene is looking for you."

Having raised his head at the interruption, Fitz flopped back down onto Olivia's lap and closed his eyes. "Tell him I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Maybe ten."

"Sir, he said it's urgent."

"Urgnt!" Teddy repeated, wide-eyed.

* * *

><p>When Fitz exited Olivia's office, he saw Cyrus hurrying down the corridor towards him.<p>

"What's the emergency?" Fitz asked exasperated.

In response, Cyrus grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. "Sally Langston wants to meet with you tonight.'

"Why?" Fitz asked shortly.

"Lushan."

Fitz felt weariness settle on him like a heavy blanket. "Where's Zeke? Ask him if he's free to take the meeting."

"Zeke hasn't been in all day." Cyrus paused. "Sally insisted that the meeting has to be with you. Samuel Reston has been invited too."

"Reston?" Fitz raised a brow. "Then we better see what's got them in bed together."

"They want to meet on neutral territory."

"Are we talking another moon landing? That's going to be difficult after we cut funding to NASA."

Cyrus didn't even crack a smile. "They've suggested Andrews Air Base."

"Really?" Fitz looked taken aback. Then he shook his head. "Tell them Camp David. Set the meeting for nine. That'll give Tom's team enough time to sweep the grounds and put a SWAT team in place."

* * *

><p>It was close on ten, when a handful of armoured SUVs made their way towards Laurel Lodge. Cyrus exited the main entrance and reached out to open the door for Fitz.<p>

"They're waiting in one of the conference rooms."

Minutes later Fitz strode in to greet his semi-invited guests, an automatic apology on his lips for his tardiness.

Sally forestalled him. "It's good of you to agree to see me at all, Fitzgerald."

"Yes," Fitz agreed. "If we have time, I'll tell you about my time in that nice mental retreat you recommended in Roswell, New Mexico."

In the background Samuel Reston's lips twitched, then he stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Mr President, you don't look stressed for a man who's about to become a father for a fourth time."

Fitz chuckled. "This is the easiest pregnancy I've been through, thanks to Olivia."

"And how is the dear lady?" Without waiting for an answer, Reston added, "Please pass on my good wishes. I owe my freedom to your wife, and I'll be eternally grateful for that."

"How is _your_ dear wife enjoying her incarceration in our five-star prison system?" Sally asked pleasantly.

"I assume she's well. Thank you for asking… Any word about the whereabouts of David? Did he make it to the Swiss nuthouse?" Sam replied in a similar vein.

"No."

Fitz sat down in the nearest couch, crossing his jean-clad legs at the ankle and resting his hiker boots on the coffee table. "It's getting late and I know Olivia will be waiting up for me, shall we get down to business?"

Almost two hours later, Fitz felt impatience battling with exhaustion as he leaned against the back of the couch trying to stay awake. On the opposite couch, Sally Langston and Sam Reston leaned forward pushing their points, talking over each other in their eagerness.

"The Republicans in the Lower House and the Democrats in the Upper House will stand behind you if you order a defensive strike against the chemical-weapons factory in Lushan."

"The Lushanese President has given his assurance that the factory makes medicine," Fitz repeated.

"The Lushanese government wouldn't have any idea of what's going on down there. The factory is privately-owned by a Saudi national."

"Are we racial-profiling wealthy businessmen simply because they're Saudi nationals?"

"Oh, don't be naïve, Fitzgerald, you know all Arabs are against us because we support the one democratic state in the whole of the Middle East."

"Jordan?"

Sally firmed her lips. "This is not a time for your warped sense of humour, Fitzgerald."

Reston held up a pacifying hand. "As long as we support the democratic state of Israel, we will continue to be the target of every insane terrorist in the region."

"The US and Israel have both dropped more bombs in that region, than they have dropped on us," Fitz muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Samuel Reston shifted in his seat, re-crossing his legs. "The reason we are here, at this midnight hour, is not take arbitrary unilateral action on an innocent bystander to the Embassy bombings which has killed nearly 300 people. You have evidence that the chemical agent, EMPTA, a precursor to the deadly VX nerve gas, was found outside the factory."

"From a single soil sample found by one field agent. The nerve gas was not used in the Embassy attacks"

"It would be good, Fitzgerald, for once during your term of office, if you could take preventative action instead of reacting to events." Sally focused her narrow-eyed gaze on Fitz. "Your father would not have tippy-toed around this issue!"

"Leave my father out of this."

"You cannot stall on this, Fitzgerald. We have been attacked, you need to take action!"

"Then let Congress pass the motion to go to war."

Reston shook his head. "We don't want to declare war on Lushan. Congress has only declared war 11 times. As you know the last time was when Congress passed the Iraq Resolution in 2002. What we are asking for is a strategic, precisely aimed attack on a factory known to be making weapons of mass destruction."

Sally let that sink in for a minute before adding, "As President, you have within your executive powers to declare war under Article II, Section 2, Clause 1 of the Constitution."

"If we have been invaded."

"If we have been invaded or there is a threat of imminent danger. What more evidence do you need of imminent danger than a chemical factory in a region that has destroyed two of diplomatic missions killing 300 people, with a terrorist group threatening more attacks right before an election?"

* * *

><p>Olivia was flicking channels, lying against a bank of cushions on the couch when Fitz entered the living room.<p>

"What did they want?" She asked switching off the television and pushing back the throw rug across her legs to sit up.

Fitz sank down beside her. "They want me to destroy the Lushan factory."

Olivia shifted close, sliding her arms around his waist. "Are you going to?"

"Samuel Reston sends his regards."

"Fitz," Olivia tightened her arms around his waist. "Ride it out. We can't take the chance that it's a pharmaceutical company."

Fitz leaned his forehead against hers. "What if it isn't? We ignored warnings about the Embassy strikes. We can't afford to ignore this."

Olivia lifted a hand to stroke his cheek. "This doesn't feel right. My gut says there's something wrong here."

Fitz pulled away from her and walked over to the cabinet, reaching for cut glass decanter, and a glass.

"Fitz, don't."

Sighing, he put the stopper back in and turned to face her a little defensively. "What if your gut is wrong?"

When Olivia didn't respond, Fitz moved away from the drinks cabinet and stood facing her with his hands on hips. "Olivia, I can't sit on my hands and wait for it all to blow over. You wanted me to take action on Faraway County, but you want me to hang tough on Lushan?"

"I didn't ask you order a missile strike on the County Sheriff's office in Faraway County."

He stared at her. Then walked towards the door. "I need to finish some paperwork."

"But it's late."

"Don't wait up for me."

Olivia stared at him in confusion as the door shut behind Fitz with a firm click.

* * *

><p>"Sir," Tom came into Fitz's office in the early hours of morning, carrying a letter in his hand. "This arrived by courier yesterday. We've checked; it's safe to handle."<p>

Fitz thunked the half-empty glass on the table and took the sheets of paper. "It's from the father of a marine who died in the Embassy attacks, but you know that because this letter, addressed to me, has been opened."

"We had to be sure the paper didn't carry traces of a toxic substance." Tom stood at ease in front of the Resolute Desk.

Fitz gave a grunt and read out loud, "_Sir, I write this on behalf of the families united in grief over the tragic loss of our loved ones in the recent terrorist attacks in Denya. I write to you as a father of a marine who has made the greatest sacrifice for his country – his life. Your kindness in reaching out to the families in our darkest hour has been greatly appreciated. It was my son's honour and privilege to have you as Commander-in-Chief of this great country. As more bodies are recovered from the rubble of the Embassy bombings in Denya and Manzania, it is my greatest hope that you will do everything in your power not only to find the terrorists who killed my son, but also to prevent these killers from harming another American soul on foreign soil."_

Fitz crushed the paper, crumpling into a ball. Then just as quickly, he laid it flat on the surface of the desk and smoothed out the creases as best as he could.

"I have to make a call to the Pentagon."

"Would you like me to get Olivia, sir?"

"No," Fitz sighed, looking down at the paper sadly.

"Cyrus?"

"No," Fitz said with more conviction, facing Tom. "This is my call."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News…<strong>_

_…**"US fighter planes today entered Lushanese airspace to drop 75 cruise missiles on an alleged chemical weapons factory in a dawn raid in the middle of the city"… **_

* * *

><p>AN: I realise a lot of you didn't like the idea of Hollis' war, but war seems to be a 'must' on the agenda of US Presidents, even Nobel Peace Prize winner President Obama. But aside from taking you down political pathways you may not wish to travel, Dear Readers (picture me in a cloud of bliss) I have a lot to thank you for. Not only do you read, encourage and defend this little story but you also provide plot inspiration which is pure gold. This chapter wouldn't have its opening without **Cici G** who provided the link for _**Police Can Take Your Property For No Reason—And Buy Crazy Things With It**_ (AlterNet article By Terrell Jermaine Starr).

But I often wonder if you'd believe this shit was real without references to actual events/press articles. That the police are able to rob you blind during a routine traffic stop, I find absolutely outrageous. That this stuff is legal is the real 'Scandal'.

Okay so preaching NOT over. (FYI: soapbox now regular accessory)

After that, I had writer's block – Hong Kong Democracy style block - on how to transition to the next phase of the story. Chips, chocolate, and staring at cats wrapped up like burritos (why tho?) didn't help.

Then Bill Clinton came on Ellen. She asked if he watched Scandal. He said he watched Scandal and House of Cards, and that he didn't know 'you could get away with murder'. (Hohoho!)

In 1998, at the height of the Monica Lewinsky scandal and Clinton's possible impeachment, there were two US Embassy bombings in Kenya and Tanzania – places with no known 'indigenous' terrorist activity at the time (as reported by the media). This is also when the US media introduced the world to Usama bin Ladin who later became Osama bin Ladin.

So what does that have to do with Clinton (wild speculation aside)? Well in response to the bombings, Clinton ordered 60-75 cruise missiles to be dropped on a pharmaceutical factory in Sudan, killing one employee, injuring 12, and depriving affordable medicine to hundred thousand Africans (and Iraqis who were waiting for a shipment of medicine under the oil-for-food programme).

(BTW, why are US Presidents so bad at geography when foreign policy is supposed to be their forte? Bin Ladin's minions destroy the World Trade Centre, who gets attacked? Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. US embassy bombings in Tanzania and Kenya by 'Usama'; who gets bombed? Sudan. It's like bombing Venus after you've been attacked by Mars.)

(BTW #2, notice how Obama is closer to Osama than Usama. Wonder when the spelling changed?) Anyway (more wild speculation aside) poor Fitz had to go to war because at least in this story I control the ending. (Hohoho!)

Oh and sorry for the mixed pickle of old and new – the new is that we did have Idiot Abbott, Prime Sinister of Australia pushing for the current war games in Iraq.

Going off to look at more cat pictures.

References (without giving away too many spoilers for the next chapter) (X)

Police Can Take Your Property For No Reason—And Buy Crazy Things With It (X)

Bombs Explode at 2 U.S. Embassies in Africa; Scores Dead (X)

Was the plant in Khartoum a weapons factory? (X)

Who Pays the Pro-War Pundits? Conflicts of Interest Exposed for TV Guests Backing Military Action (X)

All the Previous Declarations of War (X)

Article II, Section 2, Clause 1: Commander in Chief (X)

Australia wants to buy $3.8 billion worth of weapons from the U.S., spent $200K lobbying on its naval port (X)


	42. War Crimes and Atrocities

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC… ! ...**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

**Also this story will dive into more preaching, WTF and sharks ahoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>News in the USA<strong>

"_**President Grant orders strike on Weapons factory**__: A chemical weapons factory in the African state of Lushan was destroyed in a dawn raid this morning. White House sources have confirmed the factory was linked to the terror attacks on American and Australian Embassies last week…"_

"_**US Navy destroys chemical-weapons factory**__: A weapons factory with links to the new terror group Warriors of Mass Destruction was razed to the ground this morning. President Grant gave the executive order as commander-in-chief, after the factory was linked to the terrorist group Warriors of Mass Destruction. The attack follows recent threats of further attacks on US civilian and military sites, endangering American lives…"_

**News from around the World**

"_**US Navy drops 75 cruise missiles on Asprin Factory**__: Seventy-five cruise missiles were dropped on a Luchanese pharmaceutical factory in the early hours of this morning, killing one employee and injuring 12 others. The dawn missile attack was ordered by US President Fitzgerald Grant in retaliation to the car bomb attacks at the US Embassies in Denya and Manzania last week…"_

"_**Lushan's only medicine factory destroyed by US missiles:**__ US President Grant today ordered a missile strike on a medicine factory in Lushan. Security officials for the administration say the strikes were carried out to prevent the 'imminent danger' of chemical warfare. The factory which supplies half of the medicine requirements of Lushan, was destroyed, leaving one dead and several others critically injured…"_

**News Updates from Independent Media**

"_**Weapons factory doubts: **__Our sources on the ground say local authorities have confirmed the site was not a chemical weapons factory. Lushanese paramedics and emergency teams conducting rescue operations without Hazmat suits, report no adverse respiratory side effects…"_

"_**Could it have been a civilian target? **__Serious doubts are being raised about the existence of a chemical weapons factory in Lushan. The site was in the middle of the capital city, in a built-up area. The remains of the destroyed building show no evidence of the safeguards needed for a facility manufacturing dangerous chemicals with exits leading straight onto the street…" _

* * *

><p>"Fitz!" Olivia gave his shoulder a vigorous shake.<p>

Fitz raised his head off the Resolute desk and smiled.

"You. Are. Drunk." Olivia bit off each word, exasperated.

"Yes," Fitz agreed happily. "I. Am. Drunk."

"You need to get cleaned up before the kids get home," Olivia scolded, pulling on his arm.

Fitz staggered to his feet, knocking the empty bottle at his elbow onto the carpet. "Woopshie. You better call shomeone to clean up the mesh."

Olivia looked at the bottle, then back at him. "This is your mess. You need to clean it up."

"You want me to clean it up?" Fitz blinked at her. "Okey dokey." Hanging on to the edge of the desk, he lowered himself carefully on to the floor. On his knees, he stared down her feet and frowned. "I can't see your toesh."

"Damn you, Fitz!" Olivia said on a sob as she sank down beside him and reached for the bottle.

"Livvie…?" He tried to catch her arm, but he had trouble making contact. "Why'd do you have four armsh?" His fingers grazed her skin.

With another half-bitten sob, she smacked his hand away and got to her feet, holding the bottle with one hand and her stomach with the other. Then she walked to the door, opened it and faced Tom, waiting outside. "You're right. I do need your help."

When Cyrus stepped forward, Olivia shook her head, "No, it's okay. Tom and I have got this."

"We need to hurry this up. There's a press briefing in a couple of hours."

"Right now, the media isn't my highest priority, Cyrus."

"It should be, Olivia! They're beginning to ask questions and we don't want the media to come up with their own answers!"

Olivia closed the door on Cyrus. Tom was already behind the Desk, where Fitz was snoozing on the floor.

Between them they eventually helped Fitz up and out of the Oval Office, with Fitz trying to make conversation all the way.

"Liv ish mad at me, Tom. You know why?"

"No, sir."

Fitz turned to Olivia. "Liv, Tom doeshn't know why you're mad at me."

"Don't breathe on me," she gritted, "Your breath is killing me."

Fitz chuckled. "You're sho cute when you're mad."

They walked down strangely deserted corridors, past the occasional Marine or Secret Service agent on duty whose gaze didn't waver from a point straight ahead. If a White House aide happened to enter the corridor, they just as quickly disappeared through the first available doorway before they drew near. Household staff scurried past, pausing only to smile back when Fitz called out cheerily and waved.

When they finally entered the Presidential bedroom, Olivia sank on to the bed, while Tom half carried Fitz into the shower.

From the open doorway, she heard Fitz grumble, "No offensh, but I only take showers with Olivia."

"Sir, the First Lady needs a breather."

"I shwear I won't breathe on her a-gain."

Olivia rolled her eyes and went to the bathroom. "Tom, if you could just help me get his clothes off. I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure, Ma'am?"

"She ish shure," Fitz said firmly.

Olivia focused on Tom. "And if you could let the Chief Usher know, we'll be needing that coffee in about an hour."

"Yes, ma'am."

After Tom departed, Fitz grinned at Olivia as she stepped into the shower cubicle in her underwear. "Why aren't you naked?"

"I'm here to make sure you don't break your neck," she said turning on the cold tap.

"Ow! That'sh cold!"

"Yep."

"…You're getting wet."

"Yep."

"…Want a hug?"

"No."

* * *

><p>Much later when Fitz, in a bathrobe, was on his second cup of coffee, a fully-dressed Olivia faced him with her hands on hips.<p>

"I know you're tired and hungover, but Cyrus and the Press Secretary have scheduled a press briefing at four. The media is asking questions. Everyone who pushed you to attack the factory – they've all gone strangely silent. So you need to speak. You need to defend yourself. You need to release the CIA evidence."

Fitz got slowly to his feet. When he was upright, he ventured a smile. "So far so good… but I think I'll need help getting dressed."

Olivia disappeared into the walk-in closet, then reappeared with underwear, a suit, shirt and tie. Placing them neatly on the bed, she went back for socks and shoes.

When she returned Fitz was struggling to get his leg into his boxer shorts. Quickly dropping his shoes and socks, she went to help. Kneeling in front of him, she guided his feet into the shorts while he rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you," he said softly after she finished helping him with the rest of his clothes.

"Ready?" Olivia asked, brushing a speck of lint from his jacket.

When he looked at her uncertainly, she gripped both his arms. "Fitz, you faced the media with a bullet wound in your head. What's a hangover compared to that?"

He gave her a rueful smile, lifting his hands to cup her face. "I love you."

"Tell me that when you're sober."

"You're still mad at me." His thumbs stroked her skin.

"Yep," Olivia agreed. Then at his woebegone face, she leaned in and gave his chin a quick kiss. "I love you too."

"Can I get another kiss?"

"No." She took Fitz's arm and walked him out of the room.

* * *

><p>They had just made it back to the Oval Office when a brief knock interrupted them, a second before Cyrus walked in, carrying a sheaf of papers in his hand.<p>

"The Communications Director passed this on, hot off the press. There's time to make changes, the briefing won't start for another couple of hours."

Fitz took the pages, stared at them blankly before glancing back at Cyrus. "This will be fine."

Cyrus looked at him oddly, then said, "The European Union and the rest of our allies have officially stated their support for the missile attacks. The Government of Australia is calling for further attacks on all likely hideouts for the Warriors of Mass Destruction."

Even as Olivia tightened her arm around his waist, Fitz said firmly, "There'll be no further attacks. I'm not escalating this morning's incident to a full scale war. Not until I have some hard evidence about the location of this mysterious terror group." He paused. "That reminds me, I need to speak to the CIA Director. I need the soil test report released."

There was a small silence, then Cyrus nodded, spared Olivia a glance and headed out the door.

Once they were alone, Olivia turned to Fitz and smiled.

He gave a soft grunt of laughter. "It's like the sun coming out, seeing you smile."

"You're still on probation," she murmured, reaching for the papers in his hand. "Let's go over this. I'll read it out so you don't have to focus on the small print."

He gusted a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The White House press briefing.<strong>_

Gripping the sides of the White House Lectern, Fitz answered each question with a calmness he was far from feeling.

"_Mr President, what evidence did you have for attacking the Lushanese Pharmaceutical Factory?"_

"We had convincing evidence that the factory was making chemical weapons. The CIA obtained a soil sample containing EMPTA. That's a key ingredient used in deadly VX nerve gas, a known weapon of mass destruction. I've asked that the test results be released to the public."

"_Mr President, where was the soil sample found? We've seen pictures of the factory – the compound surface has concreted. The only soil obtained would have been from the plant pot at the entrance."_

"A CIA operative obtained the soil sample under clandestine circumstances and we cannot reveal exactly how and where the soil sample was obtained for purposes of national security."

"_The Lushanese President disputes these attacks were motivated by the threat of imminent danger. What do you have to say in response?"_

"I will reiterate that we have substantial evidence that the factory was being used as a facility to manufacture weapons of mass destruction. We have evidence tying the owner of the factory to known terror groups who have threatened more attacks against our citizens and others. The destruction of innocents in Africa at both the US and Australian Embassies prompted me to take action to prevent another more devastating tragedy…"

* * *

><p>Fitz walked out of the Press Briefing Room and straight into Olivia's arms.<p>

"Good job," she whispered.

"I feel sick," He whispered back.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

With their arms around each other, Olivia and Fitz made it back to the Executive Residence, managing to avoid several senior staffers and Cyrus.

"Do you need an Asprin for your headache?" Olivia asked shutting the door to the Master Bedroom.

Fitz grimaced, sitting down on the bed. "No." He paused, after kicking off his shoes and looked at her. "What if the Lushan Factory was just a medicine factory?"

Olivia came to stand between his legs, reaching out to remove his tie.

"I think I goofed."

She remained silent, unbuttoning his shirt.

After a pause, he added, "I should have listened to your gut."

Again at her silence, he continued, "Liv, I shouldn't have given that order while I was drunk—"

That prompted Olivia to cut him off with a kiss. "Stop," she said huskily, sitting down on his lap, curling her arms around his neck. "What's done is done. You did what you thought best under the circumstances." She pressed another kiss to his mouth. "That's the most anyone can do."

He smiled against her lips. "I'm semi-sober now."

"Mm..hmm…"

"I love you," He drew back to meet her gaze, "And I'm sorry I upset you."

She looked at him solemnly. "Promise me you'll stay sober until I have the baby. I don't have the strength to carry you both."

"I promise."

She gave him a stern look. "You mean it?"

"Yes." He nodded, his face serious.

"Good," Olivia murmured, "Because the next time, Tom might be having a day off and I'll have to get Cyrus to help me undress you."

"Want me to issue an executive order cancelling all of Tom's leave?"

With a soft chuckle, Olivia got to her feet and helped Fitz up to finish removing the rest of his clothes. Once he was tucked in bed, she stayed with him, combing her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>"Is Dad drunk?"<p>

Olivia hastily closed the bedroom door and looked around to find Jerry sprawled on the couch in the master suite.

"He's not feeling okay."

Jerry scrambled to his feet, towering over her as tall as a man, but the words out of his mouth were that of a boy.

"Mom, why did Dad go and bomb a medicine factory?"

"The factory was making chemical weapons."

"That's ridiculous, Mom, the factory wasn't built for that. It couldn't make chemical weapons."

"Those are just rumours, Jerry."

"No, they are not. The Jordanian factory designer has spoken to the Arab News Service saying it wasn't built with the safeguards you need to make a nerve gas. The British technical supervisor who worked there for 4 years said the factory didn't have sealed windows or doors with airlocks. Besides the factory was in the middle of the city – when it was destroyed no deadly gas escaped to paralyse anyone. The guy who died, died because Dad dropped a bomb on him."

"Fitz didn't drop a bomb on him."

"He ordered the attack, that's as good as dropping the cruise missiles on the guy himself. And you know what, Mom, the factory made 50 per cent of the medicine needed by the people of Lushan. The stuff was way cheaper than what they'll now have to buy from US companies. The factory even sent medicine to Iraq. Now they're all up shit creek because of Dad." He paused realising that Olivia was looking at him with an odd intensity. "What?"

"I think you've given me the answer I was looking for."

"I have? What was the question?"

Olivia placed her hand on his arm. "I need to check something out. Can you wait here; make sure no one disturbs your dad?"

"O-kay."

"That includes you, Jer."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

* * *

><p>Huck picked up on the first ring.<p>

"You heard about Cyrus." He said by way of a greeting.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder; seeing no one about, she slipped into a nearby closet and after securing the door behind her, asked, "What should I have heard about Cyrus?"

It was Huck's turn to fall silent.

"Huck?"

"Cyrus has been meeting with Hollis."

"Why is that suspicious?"

"It was two in the morning. In an out of town diner."

"You know why they met?

"Zeke is trying to find that out."

"_Zeke_ knows about this?"

"Yes." When Olivia didn't respond to that, he prompted. "You got a job for us?"

After a pause, Olivia said slowly, "I want to know everything you can find out about the factory in Lushan. And I mean everything, including any legal action taken against it by major Pharmaceutical companies in the US."

* * *

><p><em><strong>World News Update…<strong>_

"_Three Jordanian experts involved in the construction of the bombed factory have confirmed today that it could not make chemical weapons of any kind. Speaking at a media conference in Amman, the chemist, engineer and architect said the factory was designed to make more than 50 types of medicine for humans and animals. 'It's designed to make chemicals that treat tuberculosis and malaria, not chemical weapons_."

"_Jordanian experts today confirmed that the plant destroyed by the US Navy was not equipped to make toxic nerve gas. The factory did not have separate ventilation, segregated buildings or special pipes. One expert revealed that a World Health Organisation inspector had been to the factory a few months ago, and that no operational modifications had been done since." _

"_In the aftermath of the US-missile attack on a medicine factory in Lushan, US intelligence agencies cannot confirm the whereabouts of the Warriors of Mass Destruction or the group's country of origin. This morning the US and Saudi authorities raided a charity suspected of funding the terror group, but the men arrested have not been identified. Meanwhile the FBI director who returned from inspecting the bombed US embassy sites in Denya and Manzania said 'no final conclusions' had been made as the matter was still under investigation…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia marched toward the West Wing and straight into Zeke's office. Finding it empty, she walked right out again and bumped into Cyrus.<p>

Staring at him intently, she asked, "Where's Zeke?"

"I don't know where Zeke is! I want to know why I can't see Fitz?! Jerry wouldn't let me through, even after I told him it's an emergency! He said he was following your instructions!"

"What's the emergency?"

"We have a problem with the soil sample. It's disappeared. So has the field operative who found the sample."

"Disappeared as in… killed?"

"No! Disappeared as in, can't find him anywhere. He was a new recruit and he's gone AWOL. One of the Security Advisors has just got word that the soil sample came from a Milwaukee factory that was producing EMPTA for commercial purposes, but the CIA can't find the sample to confirm it."

"The CIA told Fitz the chemical couldn't be used for commercial purposes."

"Now they're saying it can be used to make pesticides. And we have a third problem."

Olivia folded her arms over her chest. "I'll bet this is a real prize. What is it?"

"The FBI made a mistake about the Saudi owner's connections to known terror groups. They raided the charity and found it was legit. They've been forced to release the guys they arrested without charge, and unfreeze the Saudi's accounts at the Bank of America. Fitz needs to know all this."

"I'll tell him. After he's had his nap."

Cyrus threw his hands in the air, and left muttering under his breath.

* * *

><p>Huck called a short time later. "You were right."<p>

"Big Pharma has been trying to shut down that factory?

"Yep. They tried everything from lawsuits to sanctions. It's worked in other places. They've shut down factories selling cheap medicine. But this little guy managed to hang in there, bypassing patent laws with local government intervention … uh, until the President dropped his bombs on the factory."

"Fitz didn't drop the bombs."

"The place was pulverised, Olivia. Like a sledgehammer cracking a nut."

Olivia was silent. So was Huck.

Then she sighed. "So it was all down to money again."

"Yes. The Big Boys don't like to share their toys. Only this time, they didn't want the little guy to have any toys either."

There was another long pause.

"Do you know where Zeke is?"

"He went out on a mission with Oscar and Quinn."

"_Quinn_? _Our_ Quinn?"

"Yep."

* * *

><p>Olivia was pacing the floor in her office when Zeke sauntered in.<p>

"Busy?"

Olivia came to an abrupt halt and glared at him.

"Woo!" Zeke looked down at his hands. "Peep what that scorcher did to me. I sure wasn't this black when I walked in."

Olivia refused to smile. "Why didn't you tell me about Cyrus?"

The rogue smile on Zeke's face instantly disappeared. He turned to close the door and locked it before turning to face Olivia again.

"Cyrus is why I'm here. You need to sit down for this. You don't want to be standing when you hear what's been going down."

Olivia sank down slowly into the visitor's chair nearest her. Zeke dragged another chair next to her and took out his phone. "I sent Quinn down to the house of the waitress who worked at Hope's Diner that night. Turns out she works there every night – rain, hail or snow. She's the most reliable worker the diner's ever had."

"She heard what Hollis and Cyrus were talking about."

"You got that right." Zeke tapped the audio playback function and a recorded voice filled the silence in the room.

"Hello, ma'am, I'm a special investigator—"

"Ooh, they finally sent someone over. Come in, dear, come in." The street noise disappeared at the sound of a closing door. "I made that call days ago about those two gentlemen talking about terrorists and all." There was a pause, "This won't get us in trouble will it?"

"Oh, this information will be classified. It's only for people who need to know," Quinn's earnest voice replied reassuringly.

"Oh that's all right then. Helen, this nice young lady is here about my phone call."

"What? What's that you say?" A third voice shouted.

"Turn your hearing aid on, Helen! I don't want the whole neighbourhood hearing this conversation! It's classified!"

"Why are you yelling at me, Mary?"

There was a pause, then in a lowered tone, Mary replied. "You turned your hearing aid on. Good, now why don't make us all some coffee, Helen? And I'm sure this young lady would love some of your fine ham and pickle sandwiches as well."

"I sure would." Quinn said happily.

"All righty then, I'll be right back."

There was a long pause, then Mary said, "My sister hasn't been right in the head since the accident took her hearing and Lord knows what else. That's why she needs this job. Not many out there who'd give her a job and the ones that do, know it."

"Your sister was working the night those men came to the diner?"

"Oh no, sweetie, it was me! Helen had one of her bad days, couldn't get out of bed. So I sorta filled in for her. Didn't want her boss getting mad at her for calling in sick. It's not a problem, you see even our mother couldn't tell us apart, and I don't have much of anything to do since my coffee shop closed down."

"And you clearly heard what the two men said?"

"Oh yes! They weren't even trying to be quiet, given that Helen's deaf and all. One of the men, the one who did most of the talking, said he knew that Helen didn't like having her hearing aid on. He must be a regular but I'd never seen him before."

"What did they say about terrorists?"

"The gentleman doing all the talking said they needed a war. Then the other gentlemen spilled his coffee and made such an awful mess. But they both cleaned up the spill before I could get paper towels and the mop bucket."

There was a pause, then Quinn prompted, "What happened next?"

"It didn't make much sense to me. The gentleman who was talking too much—"

"The Big Talker," Quinn cut in.

"Why yes, the Big Talker said a war would bring out the bulls from Spain. Then he said no President got re-elected to office after starting a war, unless they were Republican and living in Australia. That made no sense to me. I mean why would a Republican want to live in Australia?"

"So when did they mention terrorists?"

"Oh that was after he said he was sorry he didn't have time to train another bunch of crazies to let loose on the world. He asked the other gentleman—"

"The Coffee Spiller."

"Yes, The Big Talker asked The Coffee Spiller if he had a tame terrorist group to call, in an emergency. I said as much when I phoned 911 from the payphone at the local Laundromat, but I muffled my voice so they wouldn't recognise me. But I guess they must have guessed somehow because you're here."

There was a long pause, then Quinn said slowly, "What did you tell the 911 operator?"

"Oh, let me see. I was so nervous and I was certain they thought I was loopy. You see the Coffee Spiller said he didn't want to call the CIA, and the Big Talker said he was going to Wag the Dog, and when I told that to the 911 operator, he just sighed and asked me if there was a real emergency. I mean if terrorists aren't a real emergency I don't know what is."

There was another long pause, then a rustling of paper and Quinn said, "Just to be sure, can you tell me which of these gentleman were at the Diner that night?"

"Hmm… Not this one, he's never been to the diner not on my shift or this one or… Oh! Here's the Coffee Spiller and that one there, he's the Big Talker."

Zeke stopped the recording and took out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, saying "CS is the coffee spiller and BT is the Big Talker." He placed two photographs face down on the table, which had initials scrawled on the back and an illegible signature underneath.

Olivia snatched the photographs up. CS was written on the back of an official White House portrait of Cyrus and BT was a photograph of Hollis taken from the OPA files.

* * *

><p>Olivia made her way up the stairs, stroking a hand soothingly over her stomach, her heart growing heavier with each step.<p>

Inside the master suite, she found Jerry, Karen, her dad and Felicia playing cards at the small breakfast table, with the dogs sprawled at their feet.

Seeing Olivia, the dogs happily thumped the carpet with their tails, prompting the others to turn. Karen was the first to react, dropping her cards to race up and give Olivia a hug, while Jerry said, "I had to call reinforcements. The traffic was getting heavy around here."

Olivia managed a smile, holding onto Karen, then she looked over at her dad and Felicia. "Thanks for coming to Jer's rescue."

"Oh, we're not here for him." Rowan said, "We're here to rescue Karen's Jelly beans." He nodded at the little pile of jelly beans in front of each player.

"Jerry cheats," Karen said in a loud whisper.

"I do not." Jerry said, reaching for a jelly bean on Karen's pile.

"Yes, you do," Felicia said, smacking his hand away.

"Jeez, Mom, they're ganging up on me."

This time with a real smile, she said, "Guys, don't gang up on Jer. And Jer, leave Karen's jelly beans alone."

"Thanks, Mom," Jer said drily as Olivia slipped into the bedroom.

Fitz stirred when she sat down on the bed to take off her shoes. "Hi," he gave a sleep-roughened growl, a slow smile spreading over his lips.

"Hi." She lay on the quilt beside him. "How's your head?" She combed her fingers through his hair.

"Better." He rumbled, closing his eyes. "I love when you do that."

"Fitz…" She brought her hand to rest against his cheek. "Cyrus planned the bombing on the Embassies in Denya and Manzania with Hollis."

His eyes flew open and he stared at her.

"Fitz…?"

Fitz pushed himself up on the pillows, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Cyrus… planned the Embassy attacks?"

"With Hollis."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you ask him?"

"He doesn't know I know."

Fitz held out an arm and Olivia eased nestled against his side as his arms wrapped themselves round her.

"Start at the beginning, Liv. Tell me what happened."

When Olivia finished retelling the events of the last few hours, Fitz was silent for a very long time. Then he said softly, "Cyrus planned the attacks."

"With Hollis."

"So we have one unreliable witness. Was there anyone else who overhead the conversation?"

"No."

"Then we'll have to get him to confess. We need a confession or we can't arrest him for Treason."

Olivia pushed away from him. "Fitz, Cyrus is your right-hand man, your longest-serving Cabinet member and the one who has had your back since you were a Presidential candidate. You can't arrest him for treason. You'll be guilty by association."

"He must be punished, Olivia."

"Not with more blood on your hands."

"I'll get the CIA to work on him." Fitz swept the covers aside and got out of bed, heading for the closet.

Barefoot, Olivia padded after him.

"You won't get the CIA to interrogate a confession out of him!"

"Then what are you asking me to do? Give him the Verna treatment?" Fitz threw over his shoulder as he grabbed an undershirt.

"No!"

Fitz swung round to face her. "Olivia, I ordered a missile attack which killed an innocent civilian because of that man!"

"Oh!" She clutched her stomach.

Fitz instantly dropped the shirt and sprinted towards her. "What?! What's wrong?"

"You can't arrest Cyrus."

Fitz straightened, looking at her solemnly. "Were you playing with me just now?"

"I'm not playing. We're talking about a man's life."

"Yes," Fitz turned away to pick the undershirt off the floor and drag it over his head "We're talking about an unknown factory worker who is dead because of me."

"Fitz, we're talking about Cyrus. Treason carries an automatic death sentence."

Fitz pulled up his pants and shoved his shirt tails in and zipped up, maintaining a stubborn silence.

"You are Ella's godfather." Olivia said softly.

"Dammit, Liv, don't!"

"You are Ella's godfather and you will be responsible for the death of her father. One of her fathers."

"Why are you trying to protect him?!" Fitz roared suddenly.

"I don't know." Olivia replied softly, holding her hands over her stomach.

Fitz grimaced at her protective gesture, then came close enough to slide his arms around her waist. "Livvie," he mumbled, his lips pressed against her forehead, "Cyrus instigated an act of terror. Two acts of terror. That makes him a terrorist."

Olivia drew back to look at him. "I know. I'm just asking you to consider if death by the State is the best form of punishment?"

He studied her face intently. "Then what do you think I should do?"

* * *

><p>"Helloooo," Cyrus called out as he came down the passage towards the living room. "James? Ella? Anyone home?"<p>

He came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Fitz seated at the dining table with Olivia and Zeke.

"Is there a party? James didn't tell me about…" He paused looking around, "Where is James?"

"James and Ella are in a safe place," Olivia said softly.

Cyrus paused, "You told Fitz and Zeke about the intelligence fiasco?"

"This isn't about the intelligence fiasco."

"Oh."

"Have a seat, old man," Zeke tapped the chair next to him with his cane. "Take a load off."

Cyrus glanced at Fitz, who hadn't said a word. Then sat down carefully. "So what's this about?"

"This," Olivia said, taking a piece of paper from underneath Fitz's unresisting hands and pushing it across the table towards Cyrus. "Is your resignation letter."

Cyrus started, grabbing at the sheet of paper, then stared wide-eyed at Fitz. "You want me to _resign_?!"

"Yes."

"_Why_?!"

"Denya and Manzania," Fitz said shortly.

Cyrus placed the paper back on the table. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," Zeke chuckled. "We got evidence that you and Mr Wile E Coyote aka Hollis Doyle planned the Embassy attacks."

"You think _I_ had something to do with the bombing of our embassies in Denya and Manzania?"

"Yes," Olivia said calmly.

Cyrus laughed. "Oh that's priceless. Where's the evidence? Show me the evidence!"

In response, Zeke pulled out his cell phone, and said with gusto, "It's showtime, boys!"

A second later, four masked men in fatigues entered the room and stood guard by the entryway.

Cyrus paled. "Who—" he began, but words failed him.

Zeke got to his feet. "These are friends of mine. I'd introduce you but the guys are a bit shy, and I wouldn't want to ruin your first date. They'll take you to a secret location where they'll take their time getting to know you, no interruptions."

"They are going to torture me?"

"We don't torture people here in the United States," Fitz said heavily. "It's against the US War Crimes Act and the Geneva Conventions. No, Zeke's guys will use the same enhanced interrogation techniques approved by the Bush Administration. These mental and physical methods of questioning do not fall within the new and improved definition of 'torture'. You're not allergic to dogs are you, Cyrus? I forget."

Olivia added, "Besides, a President has within his Constitutional Powers the ability to use whatever means of interrogation he chooses, to get information that would prevent future attacks on our nation, if we have already suffered a direct attack and are in the middle of a war, which I believe was your intent, Cyrus."

Cyrus stared at Olivia, then at Fitz, then he sat back. "Whatever confession you scare out of me will be worthless because it would have been obtained under duress."

Zeke chuckled. "That's the same argument used by the taxi drivers and goat herders we rounded up in Afghanistan and are keeping locked up in Guantanamo Bay. I gotta tell you, that defence ain't working so good for them, old man."

"You cannot just make me disappear!"

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "We will release a video for the benefit of your friends and acquaintances. It will show you with masked combatants claiming to have abducted you in the latest of act of terror. They will of course threaten to behead you or maybe chop off an ear, unless the US pulls out all troops from Saudi Arabia and stops being friends with Israel. Did I miss any part of your script, Cyrus?"

"I didn't write the script. Hollis kept me in the dark for most of it."

There was a small silence, the Fitz gritted, "Sign the letter."

"No!" Cyrus swung out of the chair and walked towards the doorway. Having his path block, he swerved and pointed an accusing finger at Fitz. "I made you!"

"Now you're trying to destroy me!"

"I did what I did to protect you! You were taking on the biggest armed militia in the country – the police! You've been shot once; do you want to be shot again – by professionally trained-sharp shooters with government issued weapons?"

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "So this was a distraction? You and Hollis cooked up a plan to kill over 300 Africans in three countries so Fitz wouldn't get shot by the cops in America? Don't black lives matter unless you know the individual personally?"

Cyrus collapsed into an armchair, as Olivia continued on a hard note, "Hollis played you. Big Pharma has been trying to shut down that factory for years, now it's destroyed just like they wanted, depriving several hundred thousand people of affordable medicine."

Cyrus stared at Olivia, then at Fitz, then he leaned forward rubbing a hand over his face. "So that's why…"

"Yes," Olivia said quietly.

"Sign the letter." Fitz said, wearily.

"What about James? Is he being forced to resign too?"

"No," Olivia shook her head. "He offered but I didn't accept. Instead James has asked for an extended leave of absence and that's been granted. He'll be leaving with Ella tomorrow morning for London. After that he'll be heading for Denya, and later Manzania. He wants to see what he can do to help rebuild their shattered cities in any way he can. He'll be gone for a year."

Cyrus stared at her. "A year?"

"Yes. You still have time to pack if you want to go with them."

"My guys will take you to the airport," Zeke smiled, adding "That offer by the way isn't open to negotiation."

"Before you go…" Fitz pushed the letter of resignation further towards the edge. "Sign this."

Cyrus stared at him. Then he got slowly to his feet and came towards the table. "So this is it?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen to Hollis?"

"Sign the letter, Cyrus. Then we're done."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: As you know from reading the last chapter, this one is a continuation of fiction based on history (with a sprinkling of current events). Namely the two 1998 US embassy bombings in Tanzania and Kenya during President Bill Clinton's term of office. And his bombing of a Sudanese pharmaceutical company as a result.

A year later (1999) it was reported that America got it wrong: Al Shifa Factory wasn't making chemical weapons (despite CIA 'evidence' to the contrary). It was making medicine as the Sudanese President, the Saudi factory owner, the Jordanian factory designer, the British factory supervisor etc had always maintained.

I.e. much of this chapter was based on actual events with a liberal sprinkling of conspiracy theory thrown in. Also the torture conversation was based on George 'Dubya' Bush's (*cough* Dick Chaney's) torture regime and the Torture Memos written by John Yoo.

Some of you were dubious about an individual being able to start a 'war' – yet here we are in 2014 post-Osama bin Ladin – a Where's-Wally/Waldo/Houdini mastermind who set off 'terror attacks' on several continents, evading intelligence agencies in America and Europe for YEARS while living in a mansion in Pakistan instead of a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan.

A man who single-handedly caused a severe reduction in our civil liberties, brought the airline industry to its knees, and made us all experience George Orwell's 1984 in real life. (BTW, those are the highlights without the benefit of proper research – namely Google search).

All that was in the Western World. In the Middle East, Africa and West Asia, people had the shit bombed out of them because (apparently) stopping Bin Ladin meant killing LOTS AND LOTS of people who looked nothing like this one man (or the people doing the killing).

Now we have ISIS to replace the Bin Ladin bogey man – to double the goodness of another Operation Bloodlust x10 and Drone War Games x1000.

Before I get carried away by sarcasm, let me say that **I'm glad you are dubious **of my plot devices. I wish more people were dubious of real life happenings. Then you could all go through life severely pissed off like me, ranting in Author's Notes like a real maniac. ;)

On that note, here are the references:

**Al-Shifa pharmaceutical factory - Wikipedia**

**Soil Linked Sudan Plant to VX Gas - John Diamond, AP News Archive**

**Clinton knew target was civilian**

**Bill Clinton Bombs an Aspirin Factory**

**American-made Terrorists **

**Show evidence for Sudan raid, MP demands**

**The reasons**

**Sudan bombing: Clinton's lies exposed**

**The Al-Shifa factory was not making chemical weapons" - Interview with technical manager of bombed pharmaceutical factory in Sudan**

.

**Big Pharma's War on Health**

**Big pharma's excuses for the monopolies on medicine won't wash**

**Cipla chief Yusuf Hamied stands up against drug monopoly**

**India: Human lives vs pharma profits **

.

**Enhanced interrogation techniques**

**Torture Memos**

**Hard-working 'couple' revealed as four twins**


	43. Snakes and Ladders

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC may have created the characters but they have now been hijacked for perpetuity by fanfiction writers with more humane ambitions! **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>The silence in the unmarked armoured car was heavy. Fitz and Olivia had their arms wrapped around each other as they were driven back to the White House. He was in mourning, but she knew he would never admit that.<p>

When a heavy sigh escaped him, she lifted a hand to his cheek to turn his face towards her kiss, but his response was half-hearted at best.

Then feeling the baby move, Olivia guided his hand under her jacket and over her belly. As if guided by Olivia's silent plea, the baby moved again.

Fitz lifted his gaze to hers, a glimmer of a smile lighting its depths. "Baby G is restless. You're having too many late nights," he murmured, huskily, stroking her stomach, making her feel warm and fuzzy. Then he made her gasp as his hand slipped higher to graze her breast.

He gave a soft grunt of pleasure as she buried her face against his throat, her mouth hot and wet against his skin.

"Livvie…" he groaned. "Look at me."

When she drew back to face him, his kiss devoured her. Until she pushed back to remind him breathlessly,

"You need a chief of staff!"

"What?" He stared at her mouth.

"Chief of Staff, Fitz, you need someone to replace Cyrus."

The light died in his eyes, and he sat back, looking into the darkness outside the passenger window.

"Fitz…"

"I want someone different." He said abruptly, turning towards her again.

"O-kay.."

"Someone younger." He warmed to the theme, sliding his arms around her once again.

"But they need to have experience."

"Someone who has my back."

"But isn't afraid to stand up to you."

"Someone articulate and brilliant."

"With the stamina of a robot to keep up with your schedule," she teased, smiling.

"And pretty."

"Pretty?" The smile disappeared.

"Beautiful."

She drew back, frowning. "Have you got someone in mind?"

"You." He chuckled softly, laying his face against hers. "My strong, brilliant, articulate, beautiful, jealous wife."

"What if I don't want the job?" she murmured, sliding her hands over his shoulders and into his hair.

He rubbed the side of her nose with his. "You don't want to work with me?"

"I'd be working _for _you and you know you're a hard ass."

"I thought you were in love with my ass as much as I'm in love with yours." He gripped said ass and drew her closer for another kiss, but she drew away he could make her lose her mind.

"Fitz, I'm your wife—"

He cut her off with a hard little kiss. "Livvie, there's no rule that says my wife can't be Chief of Staff. I can appoint whoever I want. Or leave that position vacant. But I need someone; someone I can trust; someone who knows the deal, who is one step ahead of me, and yet manages to have my back. I need you, sweetheart."

He slipped his hand inside her jacket again to feather his thumb over her bare, sensitive breast. This time, she didn't hide her arousal as he whispered, his breath fanning her face, "I'll make it a part-time role, Livvie. You can have as many assistants as you want, and I'll schedule my meetings around your nap times, and I'll put your cravings on the menu for Cabinet Meeting nibbles."

Olivia chuckled closing her eyes as he began pressing soft kisses over her cheek.

"Say yes…"

"…No…"

"Livvie…"

"….No…"

"You're just delaying the inevitable."

"Yes…"

He snuffled a laugh, hugging her close.

She sighed blissfully, "So if I do Cyrus' job, who's going to do mine?"

* * *

><p>"It feels like I should mark this occasion somehow. Carry you over the threshold." Fitz grinned, helping her out of the car after they reached the White House.<p>

"Is that the custom for all Chiefs of Staff?" Olivia laughed.

"Only the really, really special ones."

"The weely, weely, special wuns?" she angled her head, backing away.

Fitz laughed giving chase but letting her get away as she turned to hurry inside through the private entrance to the Executive Residence. He caught her at the bottom of the stairs, hugging her from behind, placing his hands over her stomach as she climbed the steps, awkwardly, giggling and protesting as he snuck kisses on the back of her neck and side of her face.

On the stair-landing of the second floor, Olivia paused. "Did you hear that?"

"The sound of you wanting me?"

"No…!" Olivia tugged him towards the light streaming out of Jerry's room and the sound of Karen sobbing over the mumble of his voice.

They pushed through the half-open door, to Rex and Jerry sitting on the edge of the bed with Jerry's hair sticking out in all directions, looking as if he'd just woken up; and Karen in tears, holding a limp-looking shorkie in her arms.

When Fitz and Olivia entered his room, Jerry said with gruff relief. "We need to call the vet."

Breaking out in a fresh bout of tears, Karen said, "There's something wrong with Poppy. She hasn't been eating and she can't jump on my bed."

Twenty minutes later, a military veterinarian broke the news to the anxious family. "Well, the good news is that Poppy isn't dying," she assured Karen, who lifted her head from Fitz's shoulder and hiccuped a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong with her?" Olivia asked stroking the little dog.

"I'm not sure how you want to take this, ma'am, but Poppy is pregnant."

The family was silent all the way back to Karen's room.

After Karen was tucked into bed with Poppy at her side, Fitz said wearily, "I thought the shelter said they were all neutered."

"I guess they missed a couple," Olivia said, stroking Karen's hair.

"How long will she be pregnant?" Karen asked, all signs of tears gone. "As long as you, Mom?"

Olivia shared an amused glance with Fitz before saying, "The vet said nine weeks. In Poppy's case, she's got about 2 months to go."

"Wow, Poppy puppies in 2 months."

"We don't know that they'll look like Poppy." Olivia cautioned. "They might look like the daddy, whoever that is."

"One thing we can be sure is that they won't look like Daisy," muttered Fitz.

* * *

><p>The next morning, when Olivia checked on Karen she found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at a sleeping Poppy.<p>

"K? Why aren't you dressed for school?"

As Karen turned to face her with a tired smile, Olivia noticed the shadows under her eyes and realised the little girl had little, if any, sleep.

"How long have you been up?"

"I didn't want to sleep in case Poppy needed me."

Olivia sighed, sitting down on the bed beside Karen and drawing her daughter into the circle of her arms. "You can't do that – stay up all night; not when I'm going to need your help for a big girl job."

Karen looked at Olivia solemnly.

"Dad wants my help taking over Uncle Cy's job, and I was wondering how you'd feel about taking over mine?"

"You want me to be First Lady?" Karen's eyes widened.

"Presidents' sisters and daughters have done it before, and it would only be on a part-time basis because you'll be job-sharing with me."

"What do I have to do?" Karen asked worriedly.

"Baby, you're already a pro," Olivia smiled, stroking her hair. "Remember how you aced the First Daughter TV special and how you got the school to organise the project on 'kids who changed the world'? This will be more of the same. "

"What about Poppy?"

"I'll look after her; I've got a bit more experience being tired and cranky than she does."

Karen smiled, snuggling into Olivia's side. Then she drew back a little. "What about school? Do I have to skip that?"

"No way."

Karen smiled, looking relieved. "Okay. I'll be a part-time First Lady and job share with you, Mom."

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News…<strong>

"…_The White House today made the shock announcement that Chief of Staff Cyrus Beene resigned last night. Mr Beene was the President's longest serving Cabinet member and is widely acknowledged as his most trusted confidante. There is speculation that Mr Beene's departure spells trouble for President's Grant bid to win office for a second term…_

"_In related news, Mr Beene's husband and White House communications strategist, Mr James Novak, has taken a leave of absence. In a message posted on his official website, Mr Novak says he'll be taking a year off to show his [adopted] daughter Ella the motherland of 'all humanity'…_

"_It is understood Mr Novak was upset by the recent attacks in Manzania and Denya and hopes to assist with rebuilding efforts in both countries. Both departures surprised many in the Grant Administration…_

"_The White House is yet to announce Mr Beene's replacement but official sources have confirmed that First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant will step in as Interim chief of staff until a permanent replacement is found. Mrs Grant served as Communications Director for the President in his first year of office, and has worked closely with the President and Mr Beene in her official and unofficial capacity as a DC crisis manager… " _

* * *

><p>Olivia faced her staff and a newly acquired group of interns. "This is a temporary arrangement. The President needs my help and we need to pull together to make sure both West and East Wings function as normal. Lauren will be assisting my teams with that aim in mind."<p>

"Ma'am if you're the chief of staff? Who will be First Lady?" An Intern called out.

"She'll still be First Lady, doofus," Another voice muttered audibly.

Olivia held up her hand. "If you're asking who'll do the First Lady's job, my daughter Karen has agreed to be my 'ambassador'. She'll be assisted by Felicia Adams. Jerry and my Dad whenever they can, along with the Vice President's husband, Mr Oscar Zidambe."

There were glances around the room, then one of her staff said, "Ma'am, these organisations invite you for publicity. If you don't turn up, neither would the media."

Another staffer disagreed. "They will, if Jerry or Professor Pope went. Preferably both at the same time and place. Even the world press would turn up for that."

There was a ripple of laughter, through which the first intern said, "Ma'am, have you thought about starting an official First Lady Ambassador programme – you have a lot of fans among the famous, especially famous women. You could get Rihanna, Ellen, Eva Longoria and Mindy Kaling to represent you?"

Tongue-in-cheek, Olivia asked, "Would you like to ask them how they'd feel about that?"

"I'd love to!"

There was more laughter, until Olivia said kindly to the blushing intern. "I'm happy to go with any creative solutions you can find."

After the meeting ended, Olivia glanced down at her feet, where Poppy was resting her face.

"Are you bored yet?"

The shorkie wagged her tail.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." Olivia sighed as her OPA cell phone rang. "How's it going?"

"The weather here in California is great," Quinn said brightly.

In the background Olivia heard a snort from Abby before she came on the phone. "Operation Gotcha is on track. Huck says the target has left for the airport right on schedule. Zeke's says his men are ready for Showtime, the Sequel."

* * *

><p>Back in DC, Hollis Doyle stepped out of the car with his phone stuck to his ear. "Well, hell, don't you worry, Doug. I'll soon have them Chinese eating out of my hand before you can say Kung Pow Chow. Yeah, I'll keep you posted."<p>

He shut the phone and turned to greet the pilot and co-pilot waiting at the foot of the steps to his private jet.

"How are you doing, Gary and Steve? Lovely day for flyin' ain't it?"

"We're Ben and Pete, sir."

Hollis smiled, "Well, now Ben and Jerry, you got all my bags?"

"Yes, sir. They're all on board, except…" One of the men looked over Hollis' shoulder to where Trixie was peering into the boot of Hollis' executive sedan with the chauffeur.

Hollis made an exasperated sound. "Trixie, what the gotdamn hell are you doing back there? Give the men your bags so we can get outta of here on time."

"Hollis, I've can't find my leopard print roller case. I need that case. It's got my swimsuit in it."

"Now, Trixie, this here is a working holiday. You won't be needing your swimsuit because we'll be working more than we'll be on holiday. Besides we're going to China not the Caribbean."

"The Hotel has a heated pool, Hollis, and I aim to go swimming when you're out boozing with your new buddies. I need my case." Trixie put her hands on hips, looking like she wouldn't budge on that point.

Hollis released another exasperated sigh. "Trixie, I'll buy you a gotdamn swimsuit at the Hotel. Hell, I'll just buy you a hundred swimsuits if you'll just get on the gotdamn plane!"

"I ain't buying no hotel swimsuit made in China."

"Jesus H Christ!"

"I just need that case, Hollis. I probably left it back at the apartment. It won't take long."

"Well, I ain't waiting for you and I won't be sending the jet back to collect you. You'll have to fly commercial. You'll be stuck in an itty bitty seats eating your food from a tray wrapped in plastic."

"Okay." Trixie happily trotted off to get back in the car while Hollis shook his head, muttering under his breath about '_women_!'.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News…<strong>_

"_We interrupt this special report on celebrity naked butts, with news of a massive explosion over the Pacific. Onlookers on an industrial fishing boat have sent camera phone images of a massive fireball in the sky. Both North Korean and Russian authorities have denied responsibility for a possible missile attack…"_

_**Update…**_

"_..Civil aviation authorities believe the fireball over the pacific is a private jet. Preliminary findings appear to indicate the aircraft belongs to Texas oil tycoon and industry lobbyist Hollis Doyle. Mr Doyle's Gulfstream departed from DC this morning and stopped for refuelling at Los Angeles but never reached Beijing, China as scheduled. Aviation authorities are not ruling out the possibility of a bomb on board…"_

_**Further Update…**_

"_..Search and Rescue teams were forced to abandon the search for missing Texas tycoon Hollis Doyle and the two pilots on his private jet due to bad weather. SAR experts say the Great Pacific Garbage Patch has hampered rescue efforts but that it is unlikely anyone would have survived the explosion. Local fisherman who joined the rescue effort say it's unlikely the remains of the Gulfstream and its 3 occupants will ever be found, as investigators have yet to locate the missing Boeing 777 MH370 flight and its 239 passengers, which disappeared without a trace after leaving Kuala Lumpur for Being on March 8…" _

* * *

><p>In her campaign office, Sally Langston ended her call with the Cosh brothers, looking shaken.<p>

"Ma'am, are you all right?" her campaign advisor looked at her.

"No… I need a moment… I have just heard about the loss of a very dear friend."

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"No," Sally shook her head. "Just… please, close the door on your way out."

* * *

><p>On a campaign bus somewhere in the midwest, Governor Reston shook his head in disbelief. "Dead? Hollis Doyle is dead?"<p>

"Yes," said his campaign analyst.

"That's certainly put a spanner in the works."

"You can say that again. Unless he's left us a legacy in his will, we've just lost one of our biggest donors."

"Yes…" Samuel Reston agreed absently. Then he looked at his analyst apologetically, "This news has really thrown me. I need a minute to take it all in."

"Of course, Sam. Let me know if you need anything."

Samuel Reston waited until the door had closed before he put a call through on his private line.

"You heard?"

"Yes. May God rest his soul."

"There is no rest for the wicked, Sally. So Hollis will be busier than most."

"I too fear that his soul is eternally damned."

There was a pause. "About the plan—"

"We will continue as planned," Sally cut in smoothly, "We still have enough players to finish this game."

* * *

><p>In the Oval Office, Fitz drew his new Interim Chief of Staff into a tight hug.<p>

She nestled into his embrace. "I'm going to miss him."

He kissed the top of her head, remaining silent.

"DC won't be the same without him," she sighed.

"Without Doyle's Machiavellian interference?" Fitz said dryly. "Or his rigging of elections?"

"Both," Olivia smiled sadly.

"I hope he enjoys his stay in Hell."

* * *

><p>In a RV, 29 miles west of Blythe on Interstate 10, in an area still known as Hell in the state of California, Hollis woke up strapped to a hospital bed.<p>

He could see drips on either side of the bed, but beyond being able to turn his head, he couldn't move; his arms and legs were strapped to the bed.

"Mr Hollis Doyle, you're awake!"

The voice out of nowhere, startled Hollis and he turned his head this way and that trying to see the speaker until the voice, which had a robotic quality, said, "Look up, Mr Doyle, we don't want you getting a crick in your neck."

On the ceiling of the vehicle, was a flat screen television currently showing a Guy Fawkes mask, which asked with exaggerated concern, "How do you feel?"

Hollis struggled against his restraints, going red in the face trying to express his anger through the tape across his mouth.

"I see you're not happy. I fear you will be even more upset to hear what I have to say next…" There was a pause. "…Mr Doyle, it is with great sadness that I must inform you of your own passing… Yes, Mr Doyle, it is my duty to inform you that you have died."

Hollis stared at the screen, then redoubled his efforts to free himself, his fury muffed by the tape.

The mask waited for calm. "I can see you are outraged by that lie because you feel very much alive. In fact, _you are alive_!"

As Hollis stared wide-eyed, the voice continued, "Sadly, Mr Doyle, you know you're alive and I know you're alive but to everyone else who knows you, you are dead, and right at this very moment, you are in Hell."

* * *

><p>"James is shocked that Hollis is dead," Olivia murmured, reading the private email on her phone.<p>

Fitz's only response was a grunt, as he steered her with an arm around her waist, along the West Colonnade towards the Oval Office.

He had just finished a Press briefing in the Rose Garden about the FBI's inconclusive findings on the Embassy bombings. He'd been forced to add the agencies would continue to look for the Warriors of Mass Destruction, a terror group that probably didn't exist.

"Cyrus hasn't said a word about it to James. In fact he hasn't said much of anything. He's spends most of his time reading Dr Seuss to Ella."

Fitz ignored the reference to Cyrus completely, only speaking when Poppy sneaked out from under Lauren's desk and came towards Olivia, wagging her tail. "That dog is becoming way too attached to you."

'She's a first-time mom and she needs reassurance that everything is going to be okay," Olivia smiled, as Poppy followed them into the office.

Fitz closed the door and gathered Olivia into his arms, kissing her gently. "Everything's going to be all right."

"I'm not projecting," Olivia scrunched her nose, earning herself a kiss there as well, before Fitz released her and headed off to look at the briefs on his desk. Opening the first folder, he glanced towards Olivia sitting on the couch with Poppy snuggling next to her.

"How do you suppose Hollis is enjoying death?"

* * *

><p>Hollis woke with a start. His face itched but he couldn't scratch. He didn't know how long it had been since the first time he'd been awake, but it felt like a long time had passed since then.<p>

Right on cue, the television screen above his head flashed on, and the Guy Fawkes mask appeared. "Mr Hollis Doyle, welcome to the land of the living! Although I have to admit, it feels weird saying that after witnessing your memorial service. You should have been there, Mr Doyle. You had a very impressive turnout at the Washington National Cathedral; even the President and First Lady were among the mourners."

The mask was replaced by scenes from the memorial service, with the visuals fast forwarded to resemble a Keystone Cops movie. A raft of speakers went past in in a blur, then the picture paused on the image of Hollis' only daughter, Maybelle.

"I have to say your daughter, the one with the prosthetic ear, gave the most heart-felt speech of the service. Have a listen, Mr Hollis, I'm sure she wouldn't want you to miss a word." The recording resumed at normal speed with the audio of Maybelle's voice coming through clearly.

"I'm sorry my Dad is dead. I'm sorry I never got to tell him how I felt about the way he treated me. You see, I was a huge disappointment to my dad. But guess what, he didn't win any prizes as the World's Best Dad either. Frankly he sucked." The camera panned to Hollis' seven sons snickering, then refocused on Maybelle.

"All my father ever gave us, his children, was money. Then he got mad when we wanted more. Funny about that, considering that's all he wanted himself: more money, more power, more influence. He wanted it all, and he despised us for wanting exactly what he wanted. He cut me out of his life for demanding more of the only thing he gave me. Not only did he cut me out off his life, he cut me off from the rest of my family.

"So I am here today, at my father's memorial service, to see my family. To let them know that the lonely screwed up kid they knew, has become a lonely screwed up adult. But I'm rich – in the only thing Hollis Doyle valued – money. And I wanted to say 'thanks Dad. Thanks for the money and the bitter memories. Wherever you are, I hope you know your money is being well spent. I hope _that_, more than anything else, will make you turn in your watery grave or some shark's stomach."

As she walked away from the microphone, the camera panned to Hollis' sons clapping and whistling much to the horror of the people seated around them, including their mothers; Hollis' five ex-wives who hid their faces behind handkerchiefs in mortification.

* * *

><p>"Do you think we give our children enough love?" Fitz swung around in his chair to face Olivia as she walked into the Oval Office.<p>

At the question, Olivia paused in the doorway, then closed it slowly and set her bag down on the couch, so Poppy could jump out and settle among the cushions.

"I think our children get a lot of love," Olivia said, approaching Fitz and settling herself in his lap. "Because we're not giving them any money."

He grunted a laugh as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then frowned when she added, "Congress has delayed the misconduct hearing again and …" She paused, lifting a hand to his cheek. "It looks like the Republicans are drafting a bill to extend the parameters of qualified immunity for police officers. They are proposing to give cops absolute immunity which is a Constitutional right of Presidents, Congress and State legislators."

"That's ridiculous. Elected official face elections, there are provisions to make us accountable to the public. Are the Republicans planning to include community elections every four years if the police get the same free pass on prosecutions that a President has?"

"Are you asking me if the Republicans have thought this through? You really want me to answer that?"

Fitz chuckled, leaning into her hand. "Want to escape to Vermont for the weekend?"

Olivia shook her head, getting to her feet. "We can't. There's too much work to do."

"You're such a hard ass."

"I know from a very reliable source that you love my ass."

* * *

><p>Hollis felt strangely peaceful, being forced to lie still without speaking with nothing to do…<p>

"Mr Hollis Doyle, you are a free man!" The quiet shattered to the shout of the mask on the screen above. "Free of all your worldly goods that you can't take it with you when you're gone! I gotta say, Mr Doyle, you have been a very generous man to the family who despises you. Here they are, all of your five wives and eight children at the reading of your will, looking even happier than they were to hear you were dead."

The voice paused, then added with a small laugh. "They even got an early Christmas bonus you're your undeclared earnings in the offshore accounts. Don't worry Mr Doyle, thanks to your lawyer and your ex-wife Deborah Clarke, all that money you had hidden away has been declared to the IRS. There ain't no point trying to live it up in prison."

Hollis closed his eyes, trying to regain his earlier sense of calm.

"Hey now, don't you go to sleep on me. 'Coz I forgot to tell you what a great help Trixie was in our little operation. Your assistant was no pushover, Mr Doyle, but she got tired waiting for that diamond ring and honeymoon in Monaco. Yeah, she was real tired but you know what, she _lurvs _the deed to the Manhattan condo you told her was on lease for your dirty weekends. What's a diamond ring compared to your very own piece of New York real estate?"

* * *

><p>Fitz walked the halls looking for his Chief of Staff. Even the Secret Service was having a hard time keeping up with her, and he was seriously considering a homing device.<p>

"Have you seen Olivia?" he asked Rowan and Felicia who were dressed up to go out.

"She's in Karen's room, on a very important mission," Rowan said, tapping his nose. Felicia chuckled, adding. "It's a mother-daughter thing."

Peeking around Karen's half-open door, Fitz found Olivia seated on the bed talking on the phone, with Teddy on her lap, the dogs at her feet, and Karen holding up several dresses for approval.

As Fitz watched, Olivia shook her head at Karen's choice of a red dress, then a blue one, but nodded at a yellow dress with white daisies, all the while talking on the phone about the numbers in Congress for the Police Immunity Bill.

Gusting a laugh, Fitz picked his way over the dogs to lift Teddy out of Olivia's arms and sit down next to her. "What's the dress rehearsal for – are you going on a date?" He asked Karen.

Karen nodded. "I've got a date to appear on Sesame Street and Mom's helping choose the dress."

Olivia covered the mouthpiece and whispered "K can't wear red, it's too Republican or blue because that's Democrat. She needs something non-partisan that says Independent."

"Pumpkin's going to campaign for me on Sesame Street?"

"No, silly Daddy, I'm going to talk about how we can look different but still be family. Ella and James were going to come too, but now they can't, so it's just me and Grandpa Pope."

"The daisy dress," Olivia said, shutting the phone and getting up to give Karen a kiss just as Marta appeared to take Teddy for his bath. "Give Daddy a goodnight kiss, K, because he has to work late again tonight."

Then Olivia reached for Fitz's hand and led him out of the room. "You're meeting with the United Nations Secretary General."

"I know that's why I came to find you," Fitz said, dragging his feet to slow her progress. At her quizzical look, he murmured, "I could stop you doing 20 things at once, but it looks like you're having fun."

"It's great to be in charge without worrying about stepping on people's toes."

"Livvie, you need to slow down." He bent low to kiss her neck.

"Don't do that," she breathed.

"Why?" he mumbled against her skin.

"You make me forget… things… like… what I'm meant to be doing. Umm… what was I meant to be doing?"

Fitz lifted his head with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You were going to sneak into the closet with me for a private twenty-minute briefing."

"Lies!" Olivia laughed, grabbing his hand. "We were going to see the UN chief."

Fitz rumbled a groan, letting her drag him downstairs.

A White House aide was waiting in Lauren's office with a folder of briefing notes for Olivia, which she gave Fitz to read while she tidied his clothes and brushed back an errant curl.

"The Secretary General is on his way," Lauren murmured, handing Olivia a notepad and pen.

"Thanks, Lauren," Olivia smiled.

"Thanks, Lauren," Fitz echoed, taking Olivia's hand and tugging her into the Oval office. "I need a word with you." He said solemnly, closing the door.

"What's wrong? What did I forget?"

His eyes soft, Fitz lowered his mouth towards her, only to be blocked by her fingertips a hair's breadth from her lips.

"Fitz," she admonished, "The Secretary General is on his way."

Fitz sighed. "Strike two."

She laughed backing away as his advisors entered the room, ahead of their official guests.

Much later, after the pleasantries and the usual agenda items regarding the Middle East, NATO, and the US funding programme had been discussed, conversation progressed to the sensitive subject of the latest 'disturbance' in Africa.

"The Lushan President is calling you a war criminal, Mr President," the UN Secretary General said mildly.

"Yes, that has been brought to my attention."

"I'm not sure if you have heard, as it is a mere rumour at present, but my sources tell me the Lushan President intends to ask the United Nations Security Council to issue a resolution to refer you to the International Criminal Court."

Fitz felt Olivia tense even though she was clear across the room, sitting among his other advisors. "That would be a first – trying a western leader for such a crime. As I recall all arrest warrants issued by the ICC have been for leaders in Africa."

"Yes, Mr President," The UN Secretary General nodded. "And it will be difficult for Lushan to gain support from the Security Council when most of its members have legislated local laws and international treaties preventing their own countrymen from being brought to justice. So it would seem, Mr President, that you are safe."

* * *

><p>When Hollis woke this time, he felt disoriented. His surrounding were… bright. Instead of the usual flat screen television on the inside of the RV's ceiling, he was staring up at a cloudless blue sky. <em>Blue Sky?!<em>

He sat up, almost knocking over the shopping trolley next to him.

"Whoa, there son, don't be in such a hurry!" A voice cackled. "You ain't got nowhere to go!"

Hollis turned to stare at an old man with a gappy smile and a dirty grey beard leaning against the brick wall next to him. "The names Cornelius but you can call me Mack. Most everyone around here does. I was looking after your belongings while you slept. You didn't look like you was from around here and you know it's dangerous on this here streets for a newbie."

Hollis stared at the man, then at the shopping cart which had a raggedy blanket and a plastic sheet. His clothes, which smelt of garbage, were dirty and torn.

"You travellin' mighty light even for a newbie. You from outta town? Or your missus kick you out because off your gambling? Whatever it is, I'm hoping it ain't because you were honourably discharged from the military to live out here on the streets. I'm only asking because I ain't got enough booze for your nightmares as well as mine right now. If you need some bad, we're gonna have to steal some off Mary after she goes dumpster divin'."

"Where am I?" Hollis croaked.

"You're on Skid Row, Los Angeles, son. The Homeless Capital of the United States."

* * *

><p>"Something's wrong." Olivia said, coming into the Oval Office as Fitz was finishing up for the day. "Suddenly I can't get hold of any of our 'friends'", she emphasised the quotation mark with rabbit ear gestures, "in Congress. They aren't answering their phones."<p>

Fitz took her phone and switched it off. "It's time to clock off, Liv. Like the guys on Capitol Hill, we need downtime with our families." He grabbed his jacket off the chair and slid his other arm around Olivia. "I'd like to have an early night tonight."

"Nine isn't early."

"It's earlier than midnight." He kissed her forehead.

"All right," she teased, "I'll give you time off for good behaviour."

Fitz was laughing at that, when a Secret Service agent knocked on the door with the US Attorney General at his side.

"Sir, Ma'am, glad you're still here. We have a problem," the Attorney General said.

Fitz sighed. "What is it?"

"Sally Langston and Samuel Reston have issued a joint submission to the International Criminal Court to have you investigated for Crimes against Peace and Crimes against Humanity. It's a political stunt, sir. They are gunning for you as an Independent and we don't have the power base of an established party machine to weather the coming storm."

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for the lovely feedback! I'm so glad you are enjoying the politics – seriously it's no hardship. Writing this story has been the best therapy. It's stopped me ranting at candidates for local council who come door-knocking for votes! ;D

Some of you thought Cyrus got off easy. But I couldn't do anything too awful because I still like his character and I've stopped watching the show so I haven't acquired the virulent hatred for Cyrus that I had for Mellie. (Guess I still need therapy for hating fictional characters!)

Some of you were already way ahead of me in guessing where this chapter was going as far as Hollis' Achilles heel was concerned. And yes, I have again ventured into the land of far-fetched theories and doubtful probabilities.

Maybe not too far-fetched considering the GOP is suing President Obama for his executive orders on Affordable Healthcare and Immigration. Apparently this is a first in US history to have a bunch of rednecks on tax-payers' payroll waste more taxpayer funds suing a President trying to deal with social reforms that have been in the too-hard basket for most of his predecessors. [BTW, that's the most I'll fangirl for him, because similar to James Baldwin cheering John Wayne killing Indians until he realised he was the Indians – I've realised in President Obama's case, everything East of Europe is okay for a drone strike and war. We're all little brown dots on a video game landscape. Nothing more, maybe even less. Although I'm not sure if Pakistan has been targeted because so many Indians campaigned for Obama, but that's another conspiracy for another day.]

On that wild note, let me say that seeing New York shut down after the Eric Garner killer cop's verdict was the best thing I've seen since watching Nelson Mandela walk free. Even Human Rights Watch which only seems to watch Asia and Africa, got upset enough to make a couple of Tumblr posts about chokeholds being illegal and Eric Garner being unarmed. So glad I lived to see these days.

OK, since this is already a really loooong note, I wanted to share a personal story. [Note: I can't remember if I've shared this before – the problem with taking a year to finish a story instead of a month is that I forget stuff – notes, plots, characters names…]

Anyway, as you know I've been exploring what it's like to run a country with your family around you. I have to say I don't know what that's really like [running a country].

What I've been drawing on is my miniscule experience with my own family. When I was still working as a reporter in Dubai, I used to take my newly-retired father with me on my 'beats' because I didn't want him staying home, getting depressed.

The most memorable experience was at a press conference to announce Dubai entering a mega bucks military contract with Britain. After the formal presentation, I was interviewing a British official about the specifics of the deal, when my Dad calls out from behind (in the middle of my interview), that I needed to hurry up because the other reporters were finishing the Tiger Prawns on the refreshment table.

Maybe he saw the smoke coming out of my ears at that point, because five minutes later my dad taps me on the shoulder (while I'm still interviewing) to say that I could take my time because he'd put together a plate for me.

By that time, the Brit was giving me the look that white people give brown people for spitting in public – the one of polite disgust mixed with inherent superiority.

But a week later, after I'd got over the embarrassment (99.9%), I realised I was lucky to have a dad who cared enough to see I got my share of Tiger Prawns (which were too expensive to be on the regular diet of a poor reporter); and love of family is more important than trying to impress people who DO NOT matter (and who I _hopefully_ will _never_ meet again). Fortunately, my father has given me many instances to learn this lesson well, and the Olitz family has been fashioned around that concept. ;)

Here are my references:

Top 10 People Who Faked Their Deaths

10 Insane Stories of People Who Faked Their Own Deaths

How to Fake Your Own Death

Bogus death for big bucks: 7 dumbest mistakes

What if Someone Dies Owning an Undeclared Financial Account? What Should The Heirs Do?

How to Find a Deceased's Offshore Account

FAQs - Opening an Offshore Account and Managing an Offshore Current Account

Inheritance scams

Heirs Left With Unpaid Bills May Inherit More Grief Than Gold

Declared death in absentia

Former captain debunks all 'MH370 theories' by saying aircraft too automated to drift from course and crash

Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Hollis Doyle

The Rules of Polite Behavior in the Air: Private Jet Etiquette

White House Chief of Staff

Pregnant Dog Symptoms

Where Is The Homeless Capital of America?

Hell, California

Immunity - The Free Dictionary (see subheading: Official Immunity)


	44. Rule of Law

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC…! **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Screaming Headlines…<strong>

**Liberal Media: Ex-Party turns on President before election - **_"In a rare bipartisan partnership, a Democrat and Republican have referred a current US President to the International Criminal Court. Both deny the unprecedented move is a ploy to make the upcoming election a two-horse race._

"'_This is about justice. A grave miscarriage of justice has occurred and we are not confident that President Fitzgerald Grant will investigate a situation that would reveal the extent of his culpability,' Governor Samuel Reston said. _

_He added, "It is important that as the world's only remaining superpower, we don't set ourselves above the laws we expect others to follow. This is not an indictment; all we want is for the actions of our President to be investigated under the due process of the law with evidence to substantiate his claim that the civilian pharmaceutical factory he bombed, was in fact a chemical weapons factory.'_

**Right-wing Media: President is a War Criminal! – **_'Republican front-runner Sally Langston has led the charge in getting an investigations started on President Fitzgerald's crimes in Lushan. _

"'_It is clear to me, as someone who has worked closely with the Grant Administration, that President Grant will not admit his mistakes. That is why he married his personal crisis manager, but this crisis cannot be fixed by brushing it under the carpet. President Grant has committed a crime against humanity and we are obligated by our standing in the world community to respect_

_t the rule of law, even if it is only international law,' Sally Langston told media groups yesterday."'Yes, show us the proof. An Independent President should not be independent of accountability to Congress or the American Public…or of course the world community,' she added…'_

* * *

><p>"Fitz—"<p>

"No."

"No?" Olivia turned from her seat behind Fitz's desk, and looked over at him standing by the window.

Turning his gaze from the Rose Garden, he faced her with a rueful smile. "No, Liv, we're not calling Cyrus.

Closing the file on the notes she'd been making to give his legal team, Olivia pushed back the chair and went to stand before him, sliding her arms around his waist. "We need Cyrus. He knows about your meeting at the Lodge."

He gathered her closer. "We can't call Cyrus. He's the reason I'm in this mess. It'll get worse if he admits his complicity with Hollis. Besides, he wasn't in the room when I was talking to Sally and Sam."

"You're not punishing Cyrus, you're punishing yourself."

He looked at her solemnly. "We're not calling Cyrus. You know this a publicity stunt. The ICC has never opened a formal investigation without our approval. Sally and Sam know it. They are attempting to create as much hype as possible to put me through a trial by media."

"Or get a conviction in the court of public opinion. This is not a time to call it quits, Fitz. You can't let them get away with this."

Fitz lifted his hands to Olivia's face with a wry smile. "I'm not calling it quits."

"Then it's time for Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

* * *

><p><strong>News Update…<strong>

"_Lushan welcomed news that US President Fitzgerald Grant had been referred to the International Criminal Court for Crimes against Humanity and Peace. _

"_Speaking to the press in the Lushan Capital this morning, the Lushan President said he was pleasantly surprised by the 'initiative for justice and integrity' against a sitting US President. _

"'_President Grant is a war criminal of the first order. He attacked a factory in the middle of our city with 75 missiles. If that factory was making chemical weapons, dangerous nerve gas would have escaped into our suburbs causing more deaths than his 75 missiles. _

"_It was an ugly, ugly crime that has endangered many, many lives. Not just the employees who were killed and injured in the attack but he has deprived many on the African continent of essential, affordable medicine. The United States must be held accountable for this; the American President must be held accountable for violating international law – he must be indicted for committing an act of aggression…"_

* * *

><p>"Dad's going to jail as a war criminal?" Jerry frowned<p>

"The International Criminal Court can only issue arrest warrants if they find evidence to support the application," Rowan explained. "They can't jail anyone." He held up his hand stalling Jerry's next question, "Even if the ICC issues an arrest warrant, the United States hasn't ratified the Rome Statute which set up the court, which means we don't have to cooperate with any investigation."

"So Dad won't get arrested?" Karen asked, hugging Poppy to her.

"No, Karen, he won't."

"Because we're not going to give the courts the evidence they need to arrest Dad," Jerry muttered.

Rowan paused, then said evenly, "The rule of law isn't always about justice, Jerry. And this isn't about justice."

* * *

><p>"I need a gotdamn phone," Hollis said after a night on cardboard, and a meal from the neighbourhood soup kitchen under his sagging belt. "Where in hell's name can you find a public phone?"<p>

"You need to get arrested for that. You get a bed, a meal and a free phone call."

"How do you get arrested?"

"Hell, Texas, you really are green around the gills. All you need to do to get arrested around here is stand in front of a cop doing nothing and he'll beat the shit out of ya because he can. If you ain't dead, they'll put you in lockup for free food and board. But most times now, they just skip the meal and board in favour of a body bag. You'd be one less vagrant on the streets."

"Mack, I need to call my family."

"Well, if they that concerned about you. They'll come looking for you. Just sit tight."

"Mack!" Hollis grabbed the other man by his coat. "They won't come lookin' for me! They think I'm dead! But I ain't dead!"

"Get off me, man! This is here is my best jacket!" Mack tried to push Hollis back.

Then they both paused as a cop car pulled up next to them and two cops got out, putting on their caps, and pulling their batons out.

"This hobo bothering you?" One of the cops asked Hollis.

"He's a hobo too!" Mack shot back, earning himself a whack of a baton on the side of his head.

"Hey!" Hollis dragged Mack back. "Don't you know the hell difference between a widget and a wangdoodle? I'm the one tryin' to get arrested around here! Just quit with police brutality on Mack, and arrest me!"

The cops stared, taken aback.

Hollis glanced over his shoulder at Mack. "Man, these guys are so slow they'd gain weight walkin." Then turning back to the cops, he yelled, "What are you bozos waiting for?! Arrest me! I ain't got time to stand here waitin' for assholes to grow a brain."

The cops looked at Hollis, then at each other and pulled out their Tasers, just as a car drew up next to them, with a group of teenagers hanging out of the window holding up their phones.

"Hey, beat it!" One of the cops yelled at the kids.

"No way, we've been following you guys all day for this!" One of the kids yelled back. "Say cheese!"

The cops swore, then charged at the kids who drove out of reach, skidded to a halt and revved its engine.

As the cops dashed into their car to give chase, Hollis turned to Mack, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Mack gave a hoarse laugh. "I forgot to tell you the chances of me getting beat up are better than yours, thanks to my natural tan."

"Your ear's swellin' up, we need to get you to a hospital."

"Man you must be from another planet. The government only has money for war and bank bailouts, not no free clinics, doctors and shit. I'll be fine. This ain't the first time I had a run in with the cops and it won't be the last."

* * *

><p>Abby Whelan stood outside the gates of the Penitentiary waiting for Governor Reston's ex-wife to emerge.<p>

Joan Reston paused while taking her first steps to freedom. "You came to see me in prison…with Sam's file. You work for Ms Pope…"

Abby responded with a non-committal smile. "Bet you're glad to be out of there."

Joan gave a short bitter laugh. "Sam took his time putting in a good word for me with the new Governor. Frankly, I'm surprised. I was expecting him to get the Parole Board to lock me up and throw away the key but I'm guessing I'll be more useful to Sam on the outside."

"It wasn't Sam Reston who had a word with the Governor."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say the guy was shown conclusive evidence of why he should find you innocent."

"You showed him the file?"

"Let's just say Sam's replacement is known to have several bad habits – we took advantage of them and recorded him in the act; literally getting high in office with his pants down."

"He was Sam's pick to be Governor," Joan smirked. "They're personal friends."

"That's why he wanted to avoid any adverse publicity. He agreed that a full pardon and your passport out of the country would be in Sam Reston's best interests." Abby paused, "Have you got your passport?"

Joan eyed Abby warily. "I had my lawyers send it over to me at the Governor's request. Where am I going?"

"We need to get you to a country with no extradition treaty with the Unite States."

"Why?"

"Because you are going to defame Sam Reston with the truth, and you need to be out of reach if he decides to take you to court."

"The Governor knows this."

"No."

Joan stared at Abby, then glanced away into the distance. "I'm guessing that attorney-client privilege prevents your firm from releasing what you know."

"Yes."

Joan turned back to face Abby. "I'll do it."

Abby shot her a look of surprise. "I thought I'd have to twist your arm to get you to agree."

"There's nothing you could do to me that hasn't already been done. Now I'd like Sam to share the pain, even if that pain is merely losing another Presidential election."

* * *

><p><strong>Screaming Headlines in the Rightwing tabloids:<strong>

_**Sam Reston, a murderer?**__ Joanne Reston, Governor Reston's ex-wife has accused Reston of shooting her lover and framing her for his murder. Mrs Reston spoke to the media yesterday in a video conference from an unknown location, shortly after her early release from prison… _

_**Ex-wife accuses Presidential candidate of murder:**__ Governor Samuel Reston's ex-wife has accused the Presidential Candidate of the shooting death of her lover. Mrs Reston who was convicted of the same crime, was given a Governor's pardon for an early release on her 10-year sentence... _

_**I have served my time, now it's his turn**__: Joanne Reston, ex-wife of Presidential Candidate, Samuel Reston said that she is culpable of the murder of her then-lover. "I cried rape, and got an innocent man killed." She then went on to make the sensational claim that Reston who pulled the trigger with the intent to murder..._

[Total avoidance of topic in Liberal press.]

* * *

><p>Wikileaks Twitter: FBI whistleblower leaks secret email revealing GOP presidential candidate's links to illegal anti-gay drug. More: .Daniel-Douglas-Langston-email …

"_My dear Olivia,_

"_Time to cut and run. As the song says, 'This town ain't big enough for the both of us'. _

"_I should stick around and help clean up the mess my dear wife has made of this great nation of ours but since I helped turn Sally into the crazy lady she is today, I feel my work is done._

"_By now, you, and the rest of the country, would know that Sally has been spending my inheritance on finding a cure for my 'Godless' tendencies to love men. They'll be saying the woman has been funding a drug which increases psychopathy in the human mind. What you may not know is that Sally has been using me as a guinea pig for an unauthorised drug trial. And what she does not know is that I've been feeding her the same pills, ever since I found out about her involvement with Global Unity._

"_Did the drug turn me crazy? Did the drug turn Sally crazy? I wouldn't say that. I'd say that it helps bring out the bad in all of us without any guilt. I want to make that clear— the drug enhances the evil in us, but it doesn't inject what isn't there – so when my wife sees a copy of this email, don't let her blame the drugs for what she has done. They are only partly to blame, a small part._

"_As for our own very beautiful friendship, my dear, I'm hoping that you bear no ill will towards me for taking you night-swimming in the Potomac. If you hadn't panicked, you'd have known you were safe. I wasn't going to drown you. Not when I had a guy who was willing to pay me a princely sum to have you as his lover. But I'm not one to hold a grudge. Not when you've done a spectacular job of exposing my wife for the disaster she is. _

_Until we meet again,_

_Daniel Douglas-Langston'_

* * *

><p><strong>Screaming Headlines in Liberal press: <strong>

_**Sally Langston in anti-gay drug scandal**__: Sally Langston is accused of using an illegal anti-gay drug on her husband, Daniel Douglas-Langston. The explosive accusation is contained in an email by Douglas-Langston himself to First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant on the Wikileaks website… _

_**GOP leader drugged and dangerous**__: Wikileaks releases secret email that reveals GOP leader Sally Langston's psychotic behaviour while acting President was partly due to an illegal anti-gay drug. Langston has been accused of using the drug on her husband, missing for months._

_**Is Olivia in Wikileaks email, First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant?: **__A Wikileaks email reveals secrets about GOP presidential candidate Sally Langston's family life and anti-gay activities. The email addressed to 'Olivia' with references to 'night-swimming in the Potomac' have led to speculation that it was writing by Sally Langston's missing husband to First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant. Neither Mrs Langston nor the First Lady's office had responded to our requests by the time this story went to print..._

[Total avoidance of topic in Rightwing tabloids.]

* * *

><p>Olivia didn't look up from the documents on her desk when she heard Fitz enter her new office. She bit back a smile, pretending not to notice when she heard him lock the door.<p>

There was a pause, then Fitz sat down in the visitor's chair and reached for the stress ball on her desk.

"I've asked for an arrest warrant to be issued against the FBI leaker under the Espionage Act."

"What?" Olivia stopped pretending to read, and looked up outraged.

Fitz grinned. "I just wanted to get your attention." He tossed the ball in the air, adding "How is Joanne enjoying her tropical paradise?"

"From the tan and the cocktail in her hand, I'd say she's having the best time. The guy we've got watching her, sent Abby a photograph to confirm that she's safe," Olivia murmured, watching him. "I hear Sam's trying to find out where she is so he can shut her up with a lawsuit."

"Do you think Daniel's on a tropical island?"

"Not unless there's a game reserve where he can shoot things."

Fitz caught the stress ball one last time and placed it on the table. Then he stood up and came round to her side, lifting her out of her seat.

"Fitz…" Olivia said, half-heartedly. "We can't…"

"We've made out on my desk. It's only fair we get to make out on yours. Besides sex will make you relax."

"I'm not stressed."

"You have a stress ball."

"It was a gift."

"I'll give you an even better gift."

She snuffled a laugh. Smiling he kissed her.

"Did you lock the door?" she murmured reaching for his belt buckle.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, biting down gently on her lip.

* * *

><p>"We need to steal a phone." Hollis said, as he and Mack pushed their shopping trolleys down the street.<p>

"_You_ need to steal a phone. _I_ ain't stealing nothing, on account that I'll get killed."

Hollis looked at Mack, "Look, Mack, I got my ox in a ditch and your paranoia ain't helpin'."

Mack stopped on the sidewalk. "My _paranoia_? _My_ paranoia? You remember when they shot that homeless dude for carrying a pen knife? Shot him 46 times! The cops didn't even get no citation! Yeah, that's the rule of law around here. The cops can get away with murder and there ain't nothing no one wants to do about it. That ain't my _paranoia!"_

"A hobo getting shot 46 times is news to me."

"That would be on account that you are white. White people only read the news when they're the victim. This ain't one of them stories."

Hollis looked at Mack. "Why do you make everything about race? Not everything is about race, Mack."

"Says every white dude who ain't never been black."

Hollis gusted a sigh. "I ain't going to keep hollerin' down this well. You keep watch for them bastard cops, and I'll go steal a phone from that convenience store."

"Changed your mind about getting arrested?"

"Hell, no. That's my bonus option."

Mack waited on the other side of the road as Hollis came out carrying a bottle of milk, bread, a jar of jalapenos, chips, and a flashlight with no batteries.

"They sell prepaid cards, but no phones," Hollis said. "But the hick behind the counter called the cops, so maybe I'll get lucky this time."

They waited on the sidewalk, eating chips and bread with jalapenos, sharing the bottle of milk waiting for the cops to arrive.

A cop car eventually crawled up towards them. The cops didn't even bother getting out of the car to say, "The convenience store across the road reported a theft. Said some homeless guy just walked in and walked out with half the store but didn't pay for a damn thing."

The cop doing all the talking looked at Mack, who gave a grunt of laughter shaking his head.

Hollis rolled his eyes. "He ain't the one who did the stealin'. I'll confess, so you can go right ahead and arrest me"

The cops looked at each other. "You been taking your medicine?"

"What?"

"Just take your medicine, man, and stay out of the convenience store. We don't want to be hauling your ass off to jail." They warned before driving off.

Hollis stared after them open-mouthed. "What do you have to do around here to get arrested?"

"I don't know Texas. White people stole this country from the Indians and they got a Thanksgiving Celebration. All I have to do is be black, I don't even have to be breathing to be arrested."

* * *

><p><strong>Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court releases copy of letter sent to complainants [edited excerpt]:<strong>

The evidence submitted by the applicants on this matter, indicate that a civilian establishment was targeted by the State Party, but the number of minor casualties indicate that civilians themselves were not the target.

With several facts yet to be determined, there is insubstantial evidence to determine whether the attack was clearly excessive to 'military necessity'. However we note, that the State Party under investigation has initiated proceedings for further discovery.

After due diligence appropriate within the analysis phase, the Office has decided there is no reasonable basis to believe that a crime has been committed within the Court's jurisdiction.

**Lushan President holds press conference in Lushan Capital **

"This is most disappointing that the ICC is unable to catch the sharks; they can only pursue minnows. They focus on African world leaders while ignoring the greater misdeeds of Western leaders. They do not even get their day in court. Not even a slap on the wrist. The ICC says the US has the capacity to investigate itself, therefore a so-called independent court is not required to do that. I too have the capacity to investigate myself and find myself innocent of all crimes but that would not be acceptable to the ICC. Hailemariam Desalegn, the Ethiopian Prime Minister, once accused the ICC of hunting Africans – this is the truth. Nearly 40 individuals have been indicted in nine situations by the ICC – every single one of them has been an African– all of them! How can this corrupt court investigate corruption on a truly global scale? This is a sad day, a very sad for international justice indeed.

_**Press release issued by the Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Commission**_

_The Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Commission (KLWCC) will initiate an investigation into a war crimes complaint made against US President Fitzgerald Grant by the Lushan government._

_The claims of Crimes against Humanity and Peace will be investigated in compliance with international law and the Nuremberg Charter, and will be free from the pro-UN Security Council bias that makes the ICC ineffective on a truly global scale._

_**Media Report on Press Release…**_

"_We have a duty to investigate war criminals," said the chairman of the Commission, when asked why the Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Commission (KLWCC) was investigating a sitting American President when the KLWCC was essentially a private organisation established under Malaysian law, without a United Nations mandate. _

"_The United States is not exempt from international law or the Geneva Conventions, but for decades it has escaped any legal scrutiny of its own actions because no action is taken by the ICC without US approval, and it is clear that successive United States governments have been reluctant to hold its leaders accountable." _

_While confirming that the remedies available to the court were 'toothless' he added, "We cannot arrest them, we cannot detain them, and we cannot subject them to Capital Punishment. Yet, there is one punishment that we can give – most leaders don't want to go down in history as war criminals."_

_The Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Tribunal was set up in 2008, to prosecute cases that the ICC refuses. Since inception, it has made clear its intentions to pursue all and any complaints made against the worst perpetrators of war crimes – the United States and Israel…_

* * *

><p>Leaving Fitz on the phone with the Malaysian Prime Minister, Olivia made her way to the Executive Residence to say goodnight to the kids.<p>

Teddy was already in the land of dreams, but Karen wanted assurance that what Rowan had told them at dinner was true – that Fitz couldn't be arrested and jailed by the KLWCC. Olivia stayed until Karen was convinced of this truth, then tucked her in bed with Poppy by her side, before heading off to see Jerry.

She was about to tap on his bedroom door, when she heard a voice say forcefully, "Let my dad help your dad!"

"I don't want anyone helping my dad. He shouldn't get a free pass on his crimes just because he's President."

"He's your dad, Jer, I would do anything to help my dad."

"You might change your mind about that, if your dad drops 75 missiles on a medicine factory, Pete."

Olivia pushed the door open and marched in. "Jerry!"

"Mom!" Jerry slammed his laptop shut, nearly falling off the bed, then he glared at her. "Were you listening in on me? That's an invasion of my privacy!"

"Jerry, there are laws in this country that say I can invade your privacy anytime I want because I work for the government, but as your Mom, you need to know that you don't have any privacy in this house."

Jerry stayed frowning, shaking his head at her. "Jeez, Mom, do you have to sound like Dad? I liked you better before he brainwashed you."

Olivia sat on the bed, facing him. "I need to speak to Pete."

"Why?"

"I heard Pete say he wants his dad to help Fitz."

"I don't want him helping Dad, and Pete's my friend."

Olivia reached out to take Jerry's hand. "Jer, your father made a mistake. If he's found guilty by this war tribunal, he'll have to quit his job. Then you have to decide if you want Sally Langston running this country again, or Samuel Reston. In case you missed it, he's the guy who held a gun and shot a man dead himself, then sent his wife to prison for it."

Ten minutes later, Olivia walked into the Oval Office with Jerry by her side, still in his pajamas.

Fitz gave them a quizzical look as he finished speaking on the phone, but Olivia got in first, asking him about the phone call.

"The Malaysian Prime Minister is trying to nip the investigation in the bud because he doesn't want the KLWCC setting a precedent in nuking bilateral relations with all their allies. I've assured him that this hasn't damaged his ties with us."

"Helps that the United States is Malaysia's biggest investor."

"That's not helping me at the moment, Liv. Big Business loves Sally, not me. They're probably sending gift baskets to the investigating judges on the Tribunal with little love notes telling them to keep at it." Then Fitz glanced at Jerry who was listening to all this in silence. "Have you come for your goodnight kiss?"

Jerry blushed, then said defensively, "Mom wants me to help save your ass."

"With Pete's help."

"With Pete's dad's help," Jerry corrected.

Olivia nodded. "Big Business in America may not love you, but Malaysian business wants you here. Pete says you made a lot of friends during your last ASEAN trip, not just with his dad."

Fitz looked at Olivia, then at Jerry, then he murmured, "Want to stick around while I put a conference call through to Pete and his dad?"

Jerry shrugged. "Whatevs." He looked bored but he was anything but, when Mr Leong got on the line to say that he would use his considerable influence to help Fitz because of 'the many kindnesses' he'd shown his son.

Much later, Olivia wrapped her arm around Fitz, as they made their way to bed after seeing Jerry tucked up in his.

"We had this thing beat when I told the Lushan President that I would give a public apology and make reparations to the factory victims, including its owner and the Saudi charity that was raided. He's going to withdraw his application, and the Commission will not have much to go on with Lushan refusing to cooperate on further evidence."

"You can thank me later," Olivia murmured.

"You can bet I intend to," Fitz chuckled kissing her temple. Then after a pause, he added, "So what was all that with Jerry?"

"I wanted Jerry to get off his high horse. It's easy to take the moral high ground when you don't have to deal with mess of conflicting information."

"I was drunk and I didn't listen to you."

"Especially when you're drunk and you don't listen to me."

Fitz grunted a laugh, bending to kiss her lips, whispering, "How tired are you?"

"Very, very tired," she teased.

"Livvie, I'm just full of gratitude right now."

"You are shameless." She laughed, taking hold of his tie and tugging him into the room and locking the door behind them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the story about my dad! Loved your very kind, very sweet responses ;D.

Also one of you messaged me with a very important question: how pregnant is Olivia? And I had to admit I had no idea. Mostly because I'm writing events in a sequence of days when they really should take months, years or decades. So in actuality if this wasn't so Scandalously inaccurate (timewise as well as other things), there should be a third Olitz baby in the picture or Olitz should be grandparents.

But I do intend for Olivia to give birth during elections – so spoiler alert after I've spoiled it!

So besides the pregnancy detail, this chapter contains a whole lot my misunderstandings about the law – but seriously, I don't feel too bad about that considering what a joke it really is at both local and international levels.

For instance, Sudanese President Omar Al Bashir (who wanted Clinton to be investigated as a war criminal) became the first sitting president to be indicted by the ICC for directing a campaign of mass killing, rape, and pillage against civilians in Darfur. The conviction was handed down by the ICC 4 March 2009.

Yet Bush and Cheney escaped any kind of investigation for the murderous havoc they caused in Iraq, Afghanistan and their round-up of victims for the torture chambers in Guantanamo Bay.

Without referring to that heinous oversight, the main inspirations for the ICC inclusion in this chapter were:

Australian senator Andrew Wilkie : a couple of month ago, he wrote to the ICC accusing the current Australian government of Crimes against Humanity with regards to refugees. BTW he was the only Australian intelligence officer to resign after turning whistleblower about the bogus reasons for invading Iraq.

Then from my truly cursory understanding of international law, it seemed that Bush & Co 'unsigned' the US from the ICC in 2003 after Clinton signed up in 1998 (but didn't ratify). Guess they all wanted to avoid any chance of accountability. Anyway the 'unsigning' didn't prevent complaints about the US role in Iraq. As per Wikipedia: The Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court reported in February 2006 that he had received **240 communications** in connection with the invasion of Iraq in March 2003 which alleged that various war crimes had been committed. The overwhelming majority of these communications came from individuals and groups within the United States and the United Kingdom.

The 'unsigning' probably means the Sally and Sam scenario could never happen, but as per usual I've ignored that inconvenient truth. (As I did with the public phone scenario for Hollis- probably not that difficult to make a call).

What did actually happen was that Bush, Cheney and Blair were tried in Absentia by the KLWCC and found guilty of being war criminals in 2011.

BTW this is an actual quote Dr Mahathir bin Mohamad, ex-Malaysian Prime Minister and founder of the Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Commission (KLWCC) which found Bush and Blair guilty of war crimes in 2011: "_We cannot arrest them, we cannot detain them, and we cannot hang them the way they hanged Saddam Hussein. The one punishment that most leaders are afraid of is to go down in history with a certain label attached to them … In history books they should be written down as war criminals and this is the kind of punishment we can make to them"._

The Lushan government backing down was taken from this quote in an article from (Sudan Says Clinton Is `A War Criminal' Its Leader Claimed The Bombed Plant Made Only Medicine.) _– 'The American president has violated international law, and he meant to destroy a civilian establishment and to kill innocent people. He is a war criminal of the first degree,'' el-Bashir said. Despite the angry words, the Sudanese president said he would consider resuming relations with the United States if it ``compensates all those who were harmed in the factory attack and it publicly apologizes."_

Other references were:

Footage shows homeless black man Milton Hall being shot at 46 times by police in the US

Two Years Later, No Charges After Police Kill Homeless Man in Barrage of 46 Shots

Sudan Says Clinton Is `A War Criminal' Its Leader Claimed The Bombed Plant Made Only Medicine.

Bush 'Unsigns' War Crimes Treaty

International Criminal Court and the 2003 invasion of Iraq

BUSH AND BLAIR TO BE TRIED FOR WAR CRIMES

Bush Convicted of War Crimes in Absentia

Obama DOJ Asks Court to Grant Immunity to George W. Bush For Iraq War

Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Commission

Asylum seekers: Andrew Wilkie takes Australia to international criminal court

Mississippi Governor Pardons 210, Including Murderers, Rapists

Mississippi Wisely Prevents Governor From Pardoning a Bunch of Murderers

The best non extradition countries to become invisible

What countries don't have extradition treaties with the US?

Omar al-Bashir

Imperialism didn't end. These days it's known as international law


	45. Difficult Conversations

**Disclaimer: Inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Fitz was propped up on the pillows, rubbing Olivia's back as she lay snug in his arms. She'd had a restless night, and he was hoping she'd get a few minutes of sleep before another hectic day.<p>

"Fitz…"

"Ssh…" he whispered, "Go to sleep." He feathered kisses over hr smiling, upturned face until her eyes fluttered closed.

Then he bit back a groan when she reached for his hand and brought it round to the front of her belly, so he could feel the baby move

"We need to send you and Bub on a yoga retreat," he murmured. "A bit of meditation might help both of you get some sleep."

Olivia smiled. "I've been thinking."

Fitz sighed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I need you to stop thinking. One minute. No thinking. That's all I ask." He brushed a kiss across her skin, once twice, then smiled when she slid her arms around him, and burrowed her face into his bare chest, lapsing into silence.

Just when he began to think Olivia had dozed off, she pushed back. "Okay, minute's up," she said, nodding towards the digital clock on the night table.

"Livvie…" He started to complain but broke off when she slid her arms around his neck and whispered, "I've been thinking we should go to Vermont. We never did have that weekend we promised ourselves."

"You were thinking of Vermont?"

"Does that meet with your executive approval?"

Grinning, he kissed her cheeky smile, then smushed his face against hers, tightening his arms around her. "One minute more, and then we start packing."

Olivia chuckled. "We can't pack. Not until we tell Tom, and Zeke, and—" The rest of her list disappeared in his kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>Jerry's Vermont Video Diaries…<strong>

**Message 1:** "_Here we are back the old people's retirement village, Pete" … _[Olivia yells in the background 'I heard that Jerry!' 'Sorry, Mom!" Jerry grins into the camera]… "_So here we are home sweet home. There's Mom, carrying Teddy so he doesn't get in the way of Marta who's getting his room ready. And Karen carrying Poppy, checking for mice and roaches. There's Rowan. Dad and the Secret Service guys dragging in the luggage that Mom and Felicia got the White House to pack in case we were stuck here for the rest of our lives"… _ [Fitz calls out, "Quit playing with that camera and bring those boxes in." Camera shuts off on Jerry's indistinct mutter]…

**Message 2**: _"Remember, the last time we here, Mom's crew made a rad Thanksgiving dinner? Today we have Mom cooking and Dad giving instructions"_ … [The camera pans to Olivia at the chopping board looking down at a carrot. Fitz is peering through his reading glasses at the book he's holding at arm's length. 'It says julienne, Liv' – 'What's that?' – 'Just chop it '. Olivia whacks the carrot with a cleaver and a chunk shoots off the board, promptly hitting an agent taking a bottled water out of the fridge. The video goes out of focus at the sound of a yell…Break in recording…Then Jerry's face again with pizza in hand]… _ "After Mom gave one of the guys a concussion with that carrot, the Secret Service thought it would be safer to get pizza. They brought it back by chopper. It's a tough life out here, Pete, feel sorry for me, man…"_ [Jerry took a huge bite out of his pizza and munched away with sauce all over his grinning mouth]…

* * *

><p><strong>Meanwhile on Capitol Hill, Congressional Hearing schedule<strong>

**Hearing**: Examining EPA's Management of the Renewable Fuel Standard Program – on schedule

**Hearing**: Russian Arms Control Cheating and the Administrations Responses – on schedule

**Hearing**: Examining FDA's Role in the Regulation of Genetically Modified Food Ingredients – on schedule

**Hearing**: Examining the impacts of Community policing and judicial outcomes in police prosecutions - postponed

* * *

><p><strong>On the steps of the Faraway County courthouse<strong>…

"_Justice is blind! Justice is deaf! Justice is mute! Lushan was a distraction from the real problems in this country! The President bombs a medicine factory because they're making chemical weapons but what's he done to stop the guns and tanks rolling into our neighbourhoods? What's he done to get justice for our kids murdered by cops? There is real terrorism in this country and I can tell you that you don't need to cross the Atlantic to find it!" _

**On the street, standing in front of the memorial for the murmured teenager**

"_A boy was killed on these streets. A black boy was killed by a white cop. You ask yourself this – if the tables were turned; if a white boy had been killed by a black cop; do you think white America would sit on its ass, waiting for the next child to be murdered by another black cop? Hell no, they would not! We're talking about folks who burn down the town when their football team loses or when they get smashed at a pumpkin festival!"_

**In front of the Sheriff's Office**

"_This was a lynching by the white hoods in police uniform. The President said we'd get a hearing – a hearing about police brutality and judicial misconduct. So far all I'm hearing is silence. Silence from the White House. Silence from Congress. Silence from the Public Prosecutor. No one has arrested the murderer who shot a young man on a residential street, in broad daylight and left his body there for the world to see. Does anyone care? No! NO! The President is having a family vacation in Vermont, and here is a mother grieving for her son; a mother whose son will never, ever come home!"_

* * *

><p><strong>In front of St John's Episcopal Church, Washington DC…<strong>

A call to action had gone out from the organisers of the 'Protect Our Children' campaign. A call that was heard by church-going women all across the country. They arrived on buses, trains, and planes. Some arrived alone. Others in groups. There were mothers pushing prams, daughters pushing mothers in wheelchairs. They carried signs; they carried portraits of unarmed children killed by cops; they carried backpacks with rolled up tents. They came in jeans and hoodies, funeral black and their Sunday best.

As the numbers swelled. The DC chief of police called the Mayor. The Mayor called the Vice President. They all stood in their respective offices staring out the window, trying to decide how best to handle a situation that had the potential to get out of control, or at the very least be a public relations nightmare on the threshold of a federal election.

While city and federal officials considered the dilemma, in front of the church at the allotted time, the women moved as one, towards the White House, singing '_We Shall, We Shall Not Be Moved_'

* * *

><p><strong>Jerry's video diaries continued: <strong>

**Message 3**: "_Dad had a light bulb moment after breakfast – [_sotto voce_] Felicia and Rowan made waffles, there were no casualties. [_return to normal tone_] Dad wanted to trek in the wilderness."_ … [From the background, Fitz is heard saying, 'Hardly wilderness, Jer. This is an orchard' and Jerry responding, 'Dad. This is a dead zone']… "_So, yeah, Pete, here we are in the __**wilderness**__. Not a lot to see – trees, more trees, a mountain, geese flying to Canada – escaping the boredom. Another tree, hey are those peaches?"_ … [Rowan's dry voice in the background. 'Yes, that's where they actually grow, not the supermarket shelf or the White House pantry'. Camera focus on Jerry's face. 'Har-de-har-har']…"

**Message 4:** "_There's Mom and Dad dozing on the picnic blanket. Kay and Felicia are taking the dogs for a walk. There's Rowan walking with Teddy on the grass. The little dude is getting real good at wandering off on his own, Good thing Rowan is there to curb his enthusiasm. Here's a ladybug on a daisy. Here's it is flying away. Hey, it's landed on Mom, guess Mom's green dress kinda looks like grass to the ladybug. May not even be a ladybug. Maybe it's a manbug. How do you figure out gender on a bug?"_ … [Break in recording. Then Jerry's face appears over a lifejacket with the lake and mountain in the background.] … _"Dad, the Presidential Overlord, ordered me to go fishing with him.."_ … [Fitz in the background. 'Your chatter was disturbing Mom'. The agent next to Fitz added with a grin, 'Now his chatter is just disturbing the fish'. Conversation interrupted by ringing phone]… _"Hey, Dad, how come you have phone reception and I don't?"_

**Message 5:** _'Gotta go home, Pete. Zeke called Dad saying a church choir was blocking the streets around the White House. Dad wanted Zeke to sort it out, but Zeke was like, 'No way, man, those sisters, mommas and nannas will take me out with a look'. Least, Dad told Mom that's what Zeke said, when Dad got back from his fishing trip where he caught no fish. For a second there, Pete, I thought we'd be having pizza again as Mom and Dad suck at making dinner. Here's me signing off. I need to figure out who dad's phone provider is. He said it's the NSA because they get to listen in on his calls…" _

* * *

><p>Zeke was waiting on the South Lawn when Marine One landed.<p>

"Can you hear them sing?" he said, when Fitz stepped onto the helipad.

Across the lawn the faint sound of 'We shall, we shall not be moved' reached them.

"They need to move because the Mayor has been on my case all day."

"We should speak to them," Olivia as Fitz reached for her, helping her down the steps.

"Now?" Fitz frowned, with hands on her waist.

"Now," Olivia and Zeke said in chorus.

"Okay, Zeke and I will go. I want you to wait here."

Olivia poked her tongue out, earning herself a hard kiss and a firm directive to 'stay calm and safe'.

As Fitz and Zeke walked towards the crowd, within a circle of Secret Service agents, the women fell silent. Fitz paused at the sight of a familiar face, beyond the cordon of uniformed police.

"Mrs Drake?"

"Mr President."

"It's been a long time," Fitz smiled at her.

"Since the Pastor's funeral," Nancy agreed. "Many a river has flowed under the bridge since then."

"I'm glad to see you, Mrs Drake, although the circumstances are… disconcerting."

"A child was shot in the streets, Mr President. Disconcerting our legislators is the least we can do to bring to your attention the pain we feel as a community."

"I hear you, Nancy. Right now I'm trying to find out how big of a problem it is that we need to fix."

"Is that what you were doing in Vermont?" A voice yelled from the back. "Did you find the cure for cancer and world hunger too?"

There was a ripple of laughter.

"I get where you're coming from," Fitz said in conciliatory tone.

"No you don't!" cried a woman, pushing her way through to the front. "The only way you could understand if your son over there," Fitz turned in surprise, then felt exasperation take over at the sight of Jerry and his camera, before he returned his attention once again to the speaker. "If your son couldn't walk down the street without fearing for his life. You can only know how we feel if you had to pray that your child would get home safe from school or from the store; or that he'll be safe in a playground or she'll be safe sleeping on the couch. We don't want to live like this – afraid for our children, our men or our women, but we have no choice!"

Nancy waited for the words to sink in, before adding, "You said it yourself, Mr President – the issue of race carries a lot of pain in this country. We need that pain, those inconvenient truths to surface. We need to stop the poison of racial hatred spreading to future generations."

Zeke stepped forward, "You think that's not what we want too? We want justice, we want to rebuild trust, and we want kids to feel safe. We want exactly what you want. But camping out here isn't going to achieve any of that."

"As we have been singing, Mr Vice President, we shall not be moved. Arrest us. Arrest us all. We have come prepared. Being deprived of our freedom is a small price to pay for the greater crime of depriving our children of their lives."

"That greater crime will not be solved by the loss of your freedom."

The woman to Nancy's left, shook her head. "You think we have freedom right now? We never had freedom. Our freedom to life and liberty is in the hands of any and every white person in this country – wearing a hood, a uniform, or a suit. They can shoot us, hang us, bludgeon us, tie us to a truck and drag us down a street. They can murder us any way they like and we can do nothing but protest, waiting for the day of justice that never comes. I can tell you that we – as mothers, as grandmothers, and as children who marched with our parents to realise Dr King's Dream – we want that day of justice, and we want it now."

* * *

><p><strong>Waiting for Justice– End Racism now!<strong>

Youtube video uploaded by Rebel IV. 25 hits in 2 hours. Comments (5)

_**Sadman1:**__ 'Hey, Rebel IV, are you the President's son?'_

_**TwistnTurn:**__ 'Yeah, I saw the President's kid filming protestors yesterday.'_

_**CrazyKitten:**__ 'Hey, __**Rebel IV,**__ can I get your autograph?'_

_**Rebel IV:**__ 'Has anyone watched the video?'_

_**Sadman1:**__ 'Is Beyonce in it?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Rebel IV – Take 2:<strong> Video upload with intro from Fitzgerald 'Jerry' Grant IV

'_Hi there, my name's Jerry Grant. As you've probably seen on the news, we have protestors standing outside the White House. What you probably don't know, because the media isn't talking about that part, is that these women want justice for the kids who being killed on our streets – that's black kids killed by white cops. That's not happening right now. Like in Faraway County, no cops have been arrested. I know because I checked with the Attorney General when he was on his way to see Dad this afternoon._

'_But don't take my word for it, listen to what these women have to say. It's the only way you're going to hear their side of the story." _

**Breaking News**

_A recent video uploaded by the President's son Fitzgerald Grant IV, on a popular social media site garnered 1 billion views in ten minutes and is now making the rounds across the globe with kids from as far away as Iceland and Paraguay asking what they can do to help. _

_Celebrities have sent food trucks to feed the protestors; charities are providing tents and blankets, while churches have opened their doors for the use of toilets and showers. _

* * *

><p>"He's grounded."<p>

"He's not grounded."

"I'm going to ground him." Fitz said moving towards the door, but Olivia wouldn't budge. He gave a wry grimace. "Only a few weeks into the job and you're ready to mutiny?"

"I'm not doing this as your Chief of Staff. I'm doing this even as your wife or the mother to your children – all your children." Olivia folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. "I'm doing this because I stand with Nancy Drake and all those other women out there, maybe not in body but in spirit. I'm claiming my heritage."

Fitz looked at her oddly. "You have never tried to hide the fact that you were black."

"I didn't have to – it's not something I can hide, but I have lived a life of relative privilege, thanks to my father. I went to white elite schools, I have a white name, I wear clothes in neutral colours, I straighten my hair, and I fix white problems. I am safe. Not just to be around white people but I am safe enough to exist. I am not a walking target, even less so after you increased security around me"

Fitz stood silent, watching Olivia begin to pace back and forth, then he sat on the arm rest of the couch waiting for her to continue.

"You can see my blackness, be aware of what I face but not understand what it means to live in a society that has institutionalised racism. I worry about the world our children live in. I worry that our white children will see that it's okay to destroy anything that threatens their safety; anything and everything they _fear_ will harm them regardless of the facts. But our black child must accept injustice as a way of life, within a world order established by white supremacy; to know they must live with this hatred and may die because of it."

"You mean our white children will learn from me that it's okay to destroy anything like a factory in Africa that was making medicine instead of chemical weapons?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"Fitz, you can't avoid the significance of what I'm telling you because of a mistake you had help making. I'm talking about how we spend billions fighting terror groups like Al Qaeda, and bogus groups like the Warriors of Mass Destruction, but we turn a blind eye to what the KKK is doing."

"They were outlawed in 1871."

"When they were killing white Republicans as well as blacks in the South. But not since they re-emerged with a focus on people of colour since the 1920s. We haven't had any real action against domestic terrorists since President Ulysses S. _Grant_," she paused for further emphasis. "Passed the Enforcements Acts of 1870 and 1871 which allowed the military to arrest Klansmen, and he suspended habeas corpus in nine South Carolina counties so the legality of those arrests could not be reviewed by a judge in a court of law."

"Ulysses S Grant also passed the Amnesty Act which restored the political rights of ex-confederate soldiers; and ex-confederate soldiers formed hate groups, including the KKK." Fitz paused, looking at Olivia intently as he finished, "On a more relevant point, that Grant wasn't married to Olivia Pope. Anything I do, will jeapordise your safety."

Olivia gave him a soft smile, but didn't bridge the distance between them as she said huskily, "We know members of white supremacy hate groups are in our police forces. Where else could they be – in our military, judiciary, schools, hospitals, even our religious institutions?"

"Olivia, we know of only two known cases in Fruitland Park, Florida of cops with KKK affiliations. One was sacked, the other resigned."

"Fitz, you saw the crowd that turned up at the White House last year. You saw the ammunition they carried. Where do they work? If they are unemployed, are they on government assistance programmes that support their hate habits? Do their organisations get support from tax-deductible donations? You're on record as saying we need to find out the extent of what we're dealing with; we need to have a Truth and Reconciliation Commission."

Fitz looked taken aback. "Like in South Africa?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Why?"

"The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission went for 7 years. We don't have that kind of time. Anything we start now will be get killed and buried by either Sally or Reston. A botched operation would leave this worse than it is."

She looked at him sadly. "Even as the man who loves me, you cannot say what _this_ is – _this_ is racism, Fitz. If I was to be brutalised for any other reason than my race – there would be outrage. If I was raped, robbed, assaulted, or killed as a white woman; there would be arrests, prosecutions, Hollywood campaigns, legislative change. But if I, as a victim, am black – all acts of violence become diminished, less heinous."

Fitz was on his feet and in her space before Olivia had finished the last sentence. Gathering her unresisting figure in his arms, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and muttered, "I know that I can't comprehend the enormity of what you're saying. I know that nothing I say will be a salve for what's happened, but I want you to know that there's not a thing I would change about you. Not one thing."

She turned slightly, so her smile touched his mouth. "How about the snoring?"

There was a pause, before he gusted a laugh.

"Or my carrot chopping skills? Or—"

He kissed her again. "Not. One. Thing."

Olivia moaned softly as his kisses turned sensuous. "Fitz…"

"Mmhm?"

"This isn't about me." Olivia concentrated on her words, ignoring the havoc he was wreaking on her senses. "This is about the kids who are getting killed on the streets."

"Give me time, I'll figure this out."

"We don't have time, baby." She closed her eyes as his mouth travelled down her cheek, to her throat. "Fitz… I want you to listen to something I came across the other day… It's a speech by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, explaining why South Africa chose to set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to heal that country after Apartheid."

He drew back to give her a look. "I'm trying to seduce you and you're thinking of Archbishop Tutu?"

Olivia chuckled, kissing his pouty mouth. "I'm hanging on by a thread. I'm so hot for you right now, I could go up in flames—"

He nipped at her lips, then when she looked at him wide-eyed, her face flushing with arousal, he said innocently, "So what did Tutu say?"

She met his gaze. "Meanie."

"Returning the favour." He grinned, then sighed when she broke away to get her phone off the coffee table.

"How long is this speech?"

"Not long…maybe a bit long."

Fitz sighed again, sitting down on the couch and tugging Olivia down beside him. He watched her scrolling through a list of searched options. He brushed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, hoping to distract her but to his disappointment all he got was a quick peck on his mouth, before Olivia told him that Archbishop Tutu's speech had been given at the University of Toronto in 2000. Then she began reading the text:

_If you asked even the most sober students of South African affairs what they thought was going to happen to South Africa [_after the end of the Apartheid regime]…_ almost universally they predicted that the most ghastly catastrophe would befall us; that as sure as anything, we would be devastated by a comprehensive bloodbath._

_It did not happen. Instead, the world watched with amazement, indeed awe, at the long lines of South Africans of all races, snaking their way to their polling booths on April 27, 1994. And they thrilled as they witnessed Nelson Mandela being inaugurated as the first democratically elected president of South Africa on May 10, 1994. Nearly everyone described what they were witnessing - a virtually bloodless, reasonably peaceful transition from injustice and oppression to freedom and democracy - as a miracle._

_When the disaster did not overtake us, there were those who said, "Wait until a black-led government takes over. Then these blacks who have suffered so grievously in the past will engage in the most fearful orgy of revenge and retribution against the whites."_

_Well, that prediction too was not fulfilled. Instead the world saw something quite unprecedented. They saw the process of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, when perpetrators of some of the most gruesome atrocities were given amnesty in exchange for a full disclosure of the facts of the offence. Instead of revenge and retribution, this new nation chose to tread the difficult path of confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation._

_…We have been richly blessed to have had at such a critical time in our history a Nelson Mandela. He was imprisoned for 27 years; most expected that when he emerged, he would be riddled with a lust for retribution. But the world has been amazed; instead of spewing calls for revenge, he urged his own people to work for reconciliation - and invited his former jailer to attend his presidential inauguration as a VIP guest._

_Our country did not go the way of Nuremberg, to bring the perpetrators of such crimes to trial. Our country could not afford the exorbitant cost of trials, even if we could have held them and had the evidence to satisfy a court of law._

_Our country rejected the other extreme of a blanket amnesty, as happened in General Augusto Pinochet's Chile. It victimized the victims a second time around and was really trying to let bygones be bygones, when in fact they never become bygones. Certainly, Gen. Pinochet now knows you can't act with reckless impunity and hope to get away with it forever. This is a moral universe._

_Our country chose a middle way of individual amnesty for truth. Some would say, what about justice? And we say retributive justice is not the only kind of justice. There is also restorative justice, because we believe in Ubuntu - the essence of being human, that idea that we are all caught up in a delicate network of interdependence. We say, "A person is a person through other persons." I need you in order to be me and you need me in order to be you._

Fitz cleared his throat. "Ubuntu, huh?"

Olivia nodded, her hair rubbing his cheek. "Ubuntu."

Then she drew back to look at him. "Do you see now? We need to have the truth before we can reconcile our differences. Just like people who go to counselling and talk about all the bad things that have happened to them, we need to know what we are dealing with. We need a group counselling session for the entire country, and as a nation we need to know what we're dealing with."

* * *

><p>Later that night, Fitz found himself staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. He needed a drink of water, but he didn't want to move with Olivia snug at his side.<p>

Then as if she'd read his mind in her sleep, she mumbled, 'hot' and shifted away.

Fitz peered closely, trying to see if she was awake but when her breathing evened, he eased carefully out of bed and tiptoed to the closet, donning a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, before heading out of the bedroom suite towards the kitchen.

He found Rowan reading at the kitchen table, with a mug and a bowl of nuts in front of him.

"You're up late." Rowan peered over his reading glasses at Fitz.

"I could say the same about you." Fitz said, getting a glass of water and filling it up at the tap.

"I wanted to finish this book and Felicia can't sleep with the reading light on." Rowan held up the book so Fitz could read the title '_From Civil Rights to Human Rights'. _"It's a biography on Dr Martin Luther King Jr, written by a white man. But then so much of our history is written by white men."

"You could write a book yourself."

Rowan smirked. "If you wrote the foreword, I wouldn't have any trouble finding a publisher."

Fitz grabbed a handful of nuts, crunched and swallowed, then after a moment said, "Olivia wants to hold a Truth and Reconciliation Commission."

Rowan raised a brow. "That's ambitious, even for my daughter who always sees the bigger picture. But if she is looking at the South African model for inspiration, I have to say that although the hatred has similarities, the circumstances are not the same. In South Africa, Afrikaner police death squads disappeared people; the families of the missing didn't know what had happened to their loved ones. Over here, the victims of racism have been displayed for all to see – hung on trees, burnt on wood piles, thrown in a ditch, left bullet-riddled on the street. The purpose was not only to get rid of black lives but to teach the rest of us what could happen if we didn't behave." Seeing Fitz shift in his seat, Rowan demanded, "Does this make you uncomfortable, Fitzgerald?"

Fitz released a long breath. "It doesn't matter if I am. I will have to get used to it, with Olivia intent on exposing the truth."

"Oh there is much more to the truth than what I have said, which is why I would not support a reconciliation based on blanket pardons for the criminals who violated my people and our rights. South Africans had gained black majority rule and the Africans wanted to be magnanimous towards their white oppressors, who were a minority. In the United States, the whites have systematically terrorised people of colour in the process of creating this country using force and deception. It is not for us to forgive a majority who continue to retain a stronghold on power and prosperity at our expense. It is for the majority to show they are serious about inclusion, and I don't mean by marrying people of colour or appropriating our culture."

Fitz paused in the act of grabbing another handful from the bowl. "I wasn't making a statement when I married Olivia." He said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's not true. You were making the statement that any man, even a President, has the right to marry the woman he loves."

Fitz gave a rueful smile. "Yes, I was making that statement."

"Now you are required to make another statement, at the urging of my daughter and your wife, in exposing the divisions of hatred that have been nurtured at the highest levels of governance. The Southern Democrats supported the KKK from inception. Since then at least five Presidents, both Democrat and Republican have been linked to that group."

"But a Republican President did quash them once."

"Only for a Democrat, Woodrow Wilson, to revive them once again by promoting that travesty, _A Birth of a Nation._ Now that the rednecks have taken over the Republican Party, it appears both major parties have abandoned any intention of finding solutions to a problem that has gone on for far too long. As an Independent, you won't be shackled by ideology – either past or present. You can be guided by your humanity."

Rowan paused to watch Fitz making a pattern on the table with nuts from the bowl, then continued in a firmer tone, "The Southern Poverty Law Centre has done its best to gut white supremacy groups through civil lawsuits, but we need government intervention. We know that hatred is being perpetuated with pride by law enforcement officers. We need those truths exposed and documented."

"Like the Canadian Indian Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission?" Fitz didn't look up from the nut pattern.

Rowan disagreed, though less sternly after he realised Fitz was listening. "I'm not suggesting a repeat of the Canadian commission. They are wading through decades-worth of documents, without hearing evidence from the perpetrators. We need to hear from the perpetrators, as much as we need to add to the victims' testimony, which has been collected as nothing more than museum exhibits."

When Fitz looked up, Rowan gave a wry smile. "President Franklin Delano Roosevelt collected over 2000 interviews from people who gave first-person accounts of the brutality of slavery. Their stories are stored in the federal Library of Congress.

"More recently, President Bill Clinton's Advisory Board on Race heard evidence over 15 months on the impact of racism. That evidence was published in the report: '_One America in the 21st Century: Forging a New Future_'. We don't need another report telling us what we already know: that there has been and still is the same systematic contempt for the wrongs done to blacks that we've endured for centuries. The focus here, Fitzgerald, needs to be on justice. We need the people who keep destroying black lives to experience the same level of justice faced by a black murderer of a white victim."

* * *

><p>This sentiment was echoed by Nancy Drake and the handful of women who met with Fitz and Olivia in the Yellow Room later that day.<p>

"A Truth and Reconciliation Commission? You want us to forgive the murderers of our children? You want the men who have got away with killing our people for generations to get a free pass on what they've done?" said one of the women.

"White men who have lynched and tortured blacks for centuries will escape the consequences of their actions? White women who cried 'rape' and 'thief' and thought nothing of the blood on their hands will now get to rest in peace? Their slate will be wiped clean while we relive the pain of loss and brutality of injustice?" said another.

"Look, you gotta understand, where we're coming from – a white cop kills a black kid, they get a paid vacation while the law cooks up a strategy to get them off. When those murderers are free, they get paid by white-owned media networks to spread their lies. They become celebrities – celebrities for killing our kids, our men, and our sisters. This is the kind of sad, sick society we live in – when those sworn to protect and serve, can profit from murder and there's not a thing we can do about it. That ain't right. We need to turn this American Horror Story into the Dream that Dr King had for all of us," added a third.

"Why is it always white people that demand to be forgiven when they are lack the compassion to forgive themselves?" A fourth asked of no one in particular. "I remember when 120,000 Japanese Americans were forced into camps after the attack on Pearl Harbor in the mid-1940s. But they got the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 passed with an apology and a token cheque for $20,000. That ain't much for what they went through, but it's more than my Nan got for surviving slavery. How long you want us to keep waiting for white people to wake up to what they done to us? Wake up to what they're doing to us? We've waited 200 years already and we're still waiting for reparation."

"You remember the Greensboro massacre in 1979?" One of the ladies in wheelchair asked Fitz and Olivia. "I don't expect you to because you were kids, but I wasn't too young even then. The KKK and White Nazis shot up an anti-Klan protest march in Greensboro, North Carolina. Killed 5 people. The killers got off; an all-white jury acquitted them in the criminal trials. But they weren't so lucky in the civil suit – the five shooters and two policemen were found guilty, and the survivors won a $350,000 judgement, but only one victim got paid. Then they had a 2005 Greensboro Truth and Reconciliation Commission, it was privately funded so it didn't get a lot press, but I took notice when they found the Greensboro Police Department had been pre-warned about what was about to go down – they had a paid informant in the Klan. The same guy had been on the FBI payroll too. When you got the Police and the FBI standing around, waiting for people to get killed, you know the problem goes deep, and writing a cheque for chicken feed ain't going to fix it."

* * *

><p>It was late evening when Olivia found Fitz lying on the grass in the Rose Garden.<p>

"You didn't make it to dinner, so I made you a sandwich," she said, as he sat up. "No one was harmed in the process."

Taking the plate from her hands, Fitz set it down beside him before helping Olivia onto his lap. "I love you."

"I know." She rubbed noses with him, curling her arms around his neck.

"I love you more than you know."

"I know."

"I love you even more than I know."

Olivia lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. "I know."

He smiled, turning to kiss her palm. "What if this breaks us, Livvie?"

She turned him to face her again. "It won't."

"Livvie..."

She cupped his face between both of her hands. "Whatever happens, we'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

"I do, so does my gut." She placed his hand on her stomach.

That made him smile as he rubbed her baby bump. Then he said in a low voice, "Once they start digging into my past to discredit me, I'm afraid you'll see me differently, when all my skeletons are out of the closet."

"Fitz, you don't even know what skeletons are in your closet… unless you think your family owned my family?"

Although that thought hadn't crossed his mind until then, Fitz said, "…Yes."

"So what you're telling me is that your money belongs to my family, as unpaid wages?"

He looked at her solemnly. "You're teasing me."

"Nope." She shook her head, "This is a serious discussion about the redistribution of your wealth." She gasped a laugh when he buried his face against her neck and pressed his lips against her sweet spot until she moaned.

"Fitz… Fitz!" She clawed his head back, taking a moment to remember what she was going to say as he grinned at her wickedly.

"Fitz… you're my guy."

Fitz leaned closer to place his mouth on hers. "Does that make me special?" he mumbled against her lips.

"Very special."

"Super power special?"

She snuffled a laugh. "Behave. We're having a serious conversation."

"Let's not." He lifted his head and smiled at her tenderly. "In the dying hours of our family weekend, I don't want to have any serious conversations. Not tonight."

Olivia stroked her fingers through his hair. "Want to spend the night out here under the stars? We can ask the kids to bring their sleeping bags."

"You won't be comfortable."

"I'll be fine with a few extra pillows."

"What if you need to pee?"

"Fitz, the Oval Office is right behind us. And…" She placed a finger over his mouth, stopping a further protest. "We can make s'mores."

He kissed the tip of her finger, then ruined her warm fuzzy feelings by adding, "Maybe the kids can make those in the microwave – we don't want you starting a grass fire on the lawn." At her frown, he chuckled. "Kiss me."

"No."

He grinned, chasing her mouth until she gave in with a reluctant laugh.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello, first off – seasons greetings! Belated and not so belated for a Very Happy New Year! Sorry I'm late posting this, I had to rewrite most of this chapter after it appeared that Antonio Martin was shot by a cop, in response to a call for revenge tweeted by the KKK (for the New York cop shooting).

BTW, I had to post this chapter to stop re-writing it endlessly!

Again taking a crash course in American hate group history, I learnt that the KKK was initially established to put Southern Democrats in control of state governments in that region. They did this by terrorising Republican whites, but mainly blacks to keep them out of government. I had to get most of this info from reading chat-sites which referred me to a couple of books on the subject. Still if any of you know more about this and would like to correct my assumptions – please feel free to do so.

Plus, even though I have followed South Africa since my teens, and watched a little bit of live testimony from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (I couldn't bear to watch it all) I have simplified much of that history for this story, along with the American experience.

Someone asked how many chapters this story will have (LOL – when is it going to _end_?). Again truthfully, I have no idea. I know the ending, but the journey getting there is a work in progress –week (mostly) by week – as I finish a chapter and start on the next. Truly I am trying to write this as fast as I can but sometimes the first couple of drafts sound so stupid I have to let it sit there for a while until I stumble across inspiration via email, review, on the news or on Tumblr. In case you didn't know, you are helping me write this story! :)))

BTW, I usually put the headlines of the articles I use, as references (with links to those articles on Tumblr), but this time instead of just a reference and a link, I included a major chunk of Archbishop Desmond Tutu's speech in Toronto. I tried cutting it down but then it wasn't as powerful, so I had to put it back.

So does anyone have any good New Year resolutions? Mine is to finish this story (Phew! I hear you all say :D)

Here are my references:

Ku Klux Klan (KKK) - Profile of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK)

Presidents who were members of the KKK

Rise of the Ku Klux Klan

Passage of the Fifteenth Amendment

REVEALED: 5 US Presidents Members Of Racist Cult Ku Klux Klan (PHOTOS)

Setting the Record Straight: American History in Black & White

Review: David Barton's Setting the Record Straight: American History in Black & White, Part One

Presidents and others who were members of the KKK

Internment of Japanese Americans

An excerpt from Heart Mountain introductory film "All We Could Carry" (This is an excerpt from the introductory film by Steven Okazaki at the Heart Mountain Interpretive Learning Center (ILC) near Cody, Wyoming. The ILC commemorates the unjust incarceration of Japanese Americans at the Heart Mountain Relocation Center between 1942 and 1945)

Police ties to Ku Klux Klan shock Florida town of Fruitland Park

St John's Church

Truth and reconciliation commission

A U.S. Truth And Reconciliation Commission on Racism

This Country Needs a Truth and Reconciliation Process on Violence Against African Americans—Right Now

Un-doing cycles of vengeance: Nelson Mandela, truth and reconciliation, and the design of social justice

Truth Commission: South Africa

Greensboro massacre


	46. Fixing a Broken System

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>News Update…<strong>

'_As civil unrest sweeps across the country, President Fitzgerald Grant cut short his family weekend in Vermont to meet with protesters blockading Pennsylvania Avenue. The group calling themselves, Mothers for Justice, say they will not be moved until action is taken to address the gross injustices committed by police against African American children – a reference to the killing of a teenager in Faraway County by an on-duty cop…"_

* * *

><p>Fitz was putting on his jacket when Olivia entered the Oval Office.<p>

"The Press Secretary is just finishing his spiel."

"My spies tell me you didn't have a nap today." He raised a brow, as she took over.

"I had one." She brushed down the lapels of his jacket and adjusted his tie.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Hmmm," Fitz swept his hands around her, linking them behind her back. "What if we get this wrong?"

Olivia crooked a finger and beckoned. "Come here."

He bent low.

"Closer."

When his smile was brushing her mouth, she kissed him softly, then kissed him again before whispering, "If we get this wrong, we'll just find another way to fix it."

He released a long sigh, his shoulder relaxing. They stood for a long moment, breathing in each other in silence.

Then she slid a hand down his back and squeezed his butt, making him chuckle.

"Do we have time for a quickie?" he asked huskily, drawing back to look at her.

"Not right now, maybe later…"

Fitz dropped a hard kiss on her cheeky grin, before reaching for Olivia's hand and heading out the door, towards the East Room for his Presidential address to the nation.

* * *

><p><strong>Fitzgerald Grant, the President addresses the nation…<strong>

"A movement for change is gaining pace across the United States. The people of America have been marching our streets, blockading our malls, holding candle-light vigils and having die-ins at public events – all with one message in mind: to let America know that black lives matter.

"And I agree. Black lives matter, as do white lives, Native American lives, Hispanic lives, and Asian lives. All lives matter. They should matter equally to those sworn to protect and serve our communities. They should matter equally to those sworn to uphold the law in our courts. Prejudice cannot and should create divisions of race within a system created to make us all equal before the law.

"Now some of you hearing these words, may shake your heads – thinking to yourselves 'what's he talking about? The system has never been equal'. To you, I say, yes I am aware of the reality. I know that although the ideal of inclusion has been enshrined in our words and symbols, the practice of exclusion has prevailed through much of our history. That exclusion persists even today.

"This needs to change. As a nation we cannot and must not create divisions where none need exist. We live in a community that is as diverse as the world that surrounds us. We are diverse in multiple aspects including age, ability, gender and sexual orientation. We need an America that makes us all feel like we belong, that we are home, whether that home is of our choice or our birth.

"That is my vision for this country. As a pragmatist, I understand there are no quick fixes. But we are dealing with man-made problems; man-made problems to which there are solutions. And we, the men and women of America, should be more than capable of finding those answers.

"There will be those who feel this is not their problem. They would be correct. This is not their problem, or mine or yours. It is ours. Right now we have people who are walking the streets with the same message we heard fifty, hundred, two hundred years ago. How much longer will this message have to be repeated by each succeeding generation? Can we afford to keep fighting turf wars based on race and class?

"I personally believe that we can't keep passing the buck to the next generation. I say this not as a President but as a father of three, soon-to-be-four, kids. The legacy I would like to leave my children is that we live in a just, fair and equal society – right now I am asking for your help in making that belief a reality that will be shared by all my children."

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, the voters think we're dividing the country," said an advisor, a little breathlessly as she tried to keep with Olivia striding towards the Oval Office.<p>

"Did they only poll the Mid West and the South?"

"No, ma'am."

"So people aren't happy. Right, got it."

"Ma'am, here's the report for the President."

Olivia walked into the Oval Office, report in hand to find Fitz leaning on the edge of his desk, sharing a joke with Zeke. Both turned as Olivia entered, their grins fading at the look on Olivia's face.

"What's wrong?" Fitz stood up.

"If this was a popularity contest, we're losing."

"Them folks ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until I bring the house down with my second act ," Zeke chuckled.

* * *

><p><strong>Vice President Lucas Zeke appears on<strong>_** Politics Now **_**talkshow.**

**TV host:** "At first glance this would be an impossible task – trying to fix the problem of race."

**Zeke:** "If we focus on race – we're going to miss the bigger problem of anarchy in our community policing. The 10th Amendment handed police powers to the state, the states then went and handed those powers down to townships and municipalities. The end result is that we now have 20,000 law enforcement agencies across the country, employing over a million and a half cops, run like independent organisations. BTW, those figures are guesstimates because we ain't sure of how many police agencies we've got, what they do and just how many cops we have in uniform."

**TV Host:** "So the problem is a lack of transparency?"

**Zeke**: "And survival. Take the state of Florida for example, it has about 500 special-purpose police agencies. With that many, they won't be fighting crime, they'll be fighting to survive budget cuts."

**TV Host:** "So the problem is too much police and not enough oversight?"

**Zeke:** "It ain't that simple. We don't have a proper classification of police agencies in this country. We have cops who aren't categorised as cops, and we have cops who are categorised differently by each level of government, even though these guys work for the same organisation. There are Tribal police agencies in our 600 federally-recognised Native Indian reservations that could be counted at state, county or local level. Some guys aren't counted at all – like our 14,000 school districts which can have their own police agency. The same goes for colleges and universities which have campus police units which, from what I hear, essentially police themselves. What we've got is a crazy de-centralised system. It's chaos, man, absolute chaos. No other industrialised country has anything as dysfunctional as this. The way the system has been set up, it ain't surprising that we have people making the rules as they go along."

**TV Host**: "That's not a comforting thought."

**Zeke:** "No, it ain't. The system is broken and we need to fix it. We need more community oversight in how the cops operate in our neighbourhoods."

**TV Host:** "Are you saying the problems with our police lies in the community themselves?"

**Zeke**: "That ain't what I'm saying. When you look at the budget for these police departments which adds up to more than $50 billion, a little more than 10 per cent is federally funded through the regular channels. Communities do a lot of fund-raising to keep their departments operational, their taxes, fines and fees are contributing to the living wage and station facilities for law enforcement in their communities. If you get what you paid for – communities across America need to ask themselves: 'are we happy with the people and services we are paying for? Do we deserve better?"

**TV Host:** "Sounds like there's not a lot the Grant Administration can do, because fixing the problem is out of Federal hands, right?"

**Zeke:** "We ain't about throwin' in the towel. We've been looking at what ain't working. We know there's a lack of data on actual numbers in the field. We know we have problem in the known number of loosely connected cop agencies – many of these guys duplicate services without communicating with each other. That's not efficient or effective. On the flip side, we know that community policing, when it works well, delivers a better service than a large organisation. Right now, we're talking to a lot of people – community leaders, police chiefs, FBI, even Interpol – on what works and what doesn't. There's a big clean-up that needs to happen, and we're working on it."

**TV Host:** "So you think this is a case of policing run amok and little to do with racial bias?"

**Zeke: **"I'm saying we have more data on organised crime than we have on law enforcement. This needs to be fixed before we look at why community law enforcement includes people who are clearly unfit to police the people in their neighbourhoods."

* * *

><p><strong>Media Update…<strong>

"_Vice President Lucas Zeke staged a frontal attack on law enforcement during a political talk show tonight. Critics on both sides of the fence say counting the number of police is not going to take care of the problem of race. _

"_A sentiment echoed by protestors at Faraway County. 'The President talked about finding solutions to a problem. We're out here expecting real solutions to real problems. I don't care how many we police got in this country. I care about the one cop in my neighbourhood who's on a paid vacation while the parents of the kid he murdered, are out here every night, freezing their asses, praying for justice for their son. That's the kind of problem we need fixing.'_

"_While Mr Zeke drew wide-spread criticism for side-stepping the issue of race, some sources in Congress say it's a sign that President Grant's focus on race is not sitting well with senior officials in his own Administration…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia was nearing the end of a meditation session with her personal trainer when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Opening her eyes she saw a phone being held in front of her face by a female agent.<p>

"Uh, it's probably an emergency," Olivia murmured, seeing the trainer had snuck an eye open just as she was reaching for the phone.

"The FBI are in," Fitz said in her ear. "I had to threaten them with a civil suit for my unauthorised detention in Roswell to get movement on the negotiations."

"Good choice, because you can only use that threat once," Olivia murmured.

"No, the threat's good until I follow through, but just to be safe Zeke's on his way to make the big announcement before they can call me out on it. He's on his way to the face the media hounds right now. They're baying for his blood. I almost feel sorry for them."

Olivia chuckled. "What about the Pentagon?"

"Ma'am, there will be no talking politics during yoga mediation," murmured the trainer serenely, her eyes closed. "The President will have to call back in 10 minutes."

* * *

><p><strong>Vice President Lucas Zeke at White House press briefing<strong>

**Media**: "Mr Vice-President, do we understand this right – you don't think the current civil unrest in parts of the country have anything to do with race?"

**Zeke**: "Those ain't my words. I said focusing on race won't fix a bigger problem in law enforcement. There are towns policed by anyone who volunteers for the job. Anyone can wear a uniform and carry a gun, without meeting the minimum requirements for a new recruit. We're talking about people sworn to uphold the law who are a law unto themselves. That ain't policing – not in my book. Now the reason cops gets away with less than professional standards is because there's a lack of oversight. The lack of oversight is related to the fact that we don't know exactly who and how many we're supposed to be overseeing."

**Media**: "Are you saying situations like Faraway County occur because of a lack of organisation, not racial bias?"

**Zeke**: "Well, it seems logical to me that if we ain't checking if these people are fit to carry a gun or have the basic comprehension to understand current laws, that we wouldn't be checking for deviant behaviours like pathological hatred or psychopathy."

**Media: **"Isn't this too much to bite off for the Grant Administration, in the dying hours of its first, and possibly, last term in office?"

**Zeke:** "That sounds like a glass half-empty kind of question. So let me disappoint you with the answer – we've already started managing a problem that's a multi-headed beast. Take classification – under the President's directive, I've put together a taskforce to upgrade and expand the FBI database, so we have a federal listing of every single organisation and individual in law enforcement, whether they are public or private."

**Media:** "How is putting a name to a number going to help with your claim that there's a decline in professional standards?"

**Zeke**: "There's a point I need to correct in that loaded question – I didn't say there's an across-the-board decline in standards. I'm saying there's a decline in oversight to make sure those standards are met. Everyone is trying to cut costs, even the cops. We've got police departments outsourcing training programmes for new recruits. This means the level of training and skills required vary between departments. Here's where the FBI has agreed to step in. It currently offers training to federal, state, municipal and international agencies on a voluntary basis. We're looking at making that a mandatory standard."

**Media**: "Where will the funding come from?"

**Zeke:** "The 'show-me-the-money' question. The answer is the Department of Defense and Homeland Security. Y'all know by now that a sizeable chunk of federal funding is channelled into local and state law enforcement agencies through the 1033 Program, which allows the Pentagon to use community police departments as storage facilities for surplus military equipment. The 1033 programme is part of the Defense Authorization Act which sets the defense budget and is passed into law each year with a President's signature. If we're serious about de-militarising our police we need to veto that bill until the 1033 program is excluded."

[Silence, followed by a babble of questions break out.]

**Media:** "You're threatening to veto the defense budget?"

**Zeke:** "No, I'm saying the defense budget should not include the transfer of war weapons into civilian neighbourhoods. We don't need no mine-resistant ambush protected vehicles in our neighbourhoods. How many neighbourhoods you know that got mines laid down in front of their local school, church or corner store? So why do the police need MRAPs in our neighbourhoods?"

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News…<strong>

"_Vice President Lucas Zeke dropped a bomb on defence spending today, with a claim that President Grant may veto the annual Defense Authorization Act, unless the 1033 program is excluded from its budget allocation._

'_He later added that Administration was looking at ceasing grants from the Department of Homeland Security to local law enforcement agencies. It is believed that at least $40 billion in DHS grants were spent on military equipment including drones, bomb-disarming robots by community police in 2011. According to a DHS press release last year, $1.6 billion in grants was given to 'states, urban areas, tribal and territorial governments and nonprofit organizations as well as the private sector to strengthen our nation's ability to prevent, protect against, mitigate, respond to, and recover from terrorist attacks, major disasters, and other emergencies in support of the National Preparedness Goal and the National Preparedness System'._

"_The Pentagon has refused to comment on the threat of spending cuts, but it has outraged both Republicans and Democrats who claim a renegade President cannot hold a Congress to ransom until they meet his demands. They say vetoing the annual defence budget in its entirety would put national security at risk, and make America a target for every terrorist on the planet. They say it's clear that panic is steering an Administration that is clearly aware of its last days in government…"_

* * *

><p>"Man, they sure are getting vicious out there. Guess they must finally see us as a threat." Zeke grinned as he entered the Roosevelt Room.<p>

"The pollsters are reporting a spike in our approval ratings," Fitz grinned, leaning back in his chair, his hands linked behind his head. "And I hear that community groups are contacting members of Congress, demanding a pledge that both major parties will stick to the scrapping of 1033 and the DHS grants."

"So we've got one in the bag. The next one's not going to be that easy."

"No," Fitz murmured, leaning forward, folding his arms across his chest. Then he paused as the Attorney General entered the room with a bunch of files under his arm.

"Am I late?" he asked, looking at his watch.

"No, but Olivia is," Fitz stood up.

"She's on her way," the Attorney General smiled. "At Poppy's pace."

"I thought Karen was taking that dog to school?" Zeke turned to Fitz.

"The Principal asked us to keep Poppy at home, because the teachers were getting too distracted fussing over her."

* * *

><p><strong>Media Update…<strong>

…"_President Grant is appealing to Congress to approve a $300 million law enforcement package that would equip each cop with a body camera. Official White House sources the funding will go towards an initial allocation of 50,000 cameras. So far the initiative has garnered criticism from all sides. Civil rights groups have said 50,000 cameras will not cover a tenth of the cops employed across the country. State and local government sources oppose the suggestion that they would need to contribute to funding, while the Grant Administration is currently making moves to cut revenue streams. Police unions also oppose the proposal on grounds that it would violate privacy and other Constitutional liberties of their members…"_

* * *

><p><strong>The Attorney General's office releases footage of news conference at the Justice Department, Washington DC on social media, largely ignored by mainstream organisations.<strong>

**Media:** "Do you feel body cameras alone will take care of the current issues of trust that the community has with law enforcement?"

**AG:** "No, I don't. Nor does the President. We know we're dealing with several factors: transparency is one, a lack of discipline is another. Police departments rarely discipline police officers who break the law. We have enough criminal prosecutions to support the anecdotal evidence. "

**Media:** "You mean like in the case of Kenneth Banks, the New York cop who killed an unarmed civilian with a walkie-talkie, then got charged for losing his means of communication?"

**AG:** "We're not here to target individuals. We're trying to fix a broken system. We need to bring the focus back to what's important in community policing – protecting and serving the community. Which brings me to the next point, we don't have enough civilian oversight. The community pays for cops to be in their neighbourhoods, but don't have access to see how effective they are at their jobs."

**Media:** "What if the cops don't want the crims to have insider information?"

**AG:** "We're not talking trade secrets; we're talking about people hired to protect and serve. It's in the public interest to see that these men and women are up to the job, that they are working within the laws that they are sworn to uphold. If you can't work within the law, then you cannot be law enforcement officers. It's as simple as that. If cops are found to have broken the law – then a civilian oversight board should be allowed to bring charges against them."

**Media:** "How would civilian boards gather evidence? They would be biased towards the victims of police whether there is a valid case or not."

**AG:** "That's why we want this funding package to be passed by Congress. It's a start in making sure every uniformed cop wears a body camera. The cameras will provide evidence – either in support of civilian claims of police brutality or to protect police from false claims of misconduct. I see a win-win situation here."

* * *

><p>"Political bloggers are spreading the message," said Olivia as she got ready for the ultrasound. "But we need an expert opinion. Someone who isn't afraid to tell the unvarnished truth when it comes to the law."<p>

"Let me take care of that," Fitz murmured, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Fitz, I've got to go, the sonographer wants me to turn the phone off."

An hour later, Fitz arrived at the doctor's office with the Secret Service in tow. The waiting room had been cleared of other patients, and Olivia was alone with the doctor when Fitz entered the room.

"What's wrong?" His gaze flew to Olivia as she stood up to face him, with a mixture of expressions.

"Fitz, everything is fine," Olivia went to him, laying a reassuring hand on his arm. "I became a bit emotional when I saw the scan. That's all. You didn't have to get the agents to keep me here until you arrived."

Fitz reached out to draw her close. "They told me you burst out crying. Is something wrong with the baby?"

"The baby is tracking along nicely," the doctor assured. "There is nothing to worry about."

Fitz looked from the doctor to Olivia, lifting his hands to her face. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Our baby has your pout and it caught me by surprise," Olivia smiled extending a 3D image for Fitz to see.

He took the sonogram with unsteady fingers. "He or she has got your nose," he said thickly after a long silence.

"Would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?" the doctor asked softly. "It's fine if you've changed your mind."

"No." Olivia and Fitz spoke together, then looked at each other, smiling. "We'll wait."

Walking back to the car, their arms around each other, Fitz murmured, "You know I love this kid already. I would love our child no matter what."

"I know," Olivia tightened her arm around his waist. "Me too."

Fitz waited until they were in the back of the car, before gathering her close to kiss the trace of tears from her lashes and the smile on her lips.

Then he broke off mid-kiss to say, "I don't pout."

"Yes, you do," Olivia murmured, tugging him back for another kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>Opinion piece in A Law Journal by Professor Rowan Pope, reprinted and re-distributed by major media news networks<strong>

_Cops are killing civilians in greater numbers, helped by a culture of impunity fostered by the theory and practice of law. _

_According to FBI's Uniform Crime Reporting Program figures, law enforcement officers committed 461 'justifiable homicides' last year - __the highest number in 20 years. Yet, those figures may just be the tip of a predatory iceberg as the FBI database relies on voluntary reporting by __state and local law enforcement agencies._

_This arbitrary compilation of police brutality incidents has prevailed, despite attempts by the US Congress to regulate reporting, under section 210402 of __the __Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994__, which the Attorney General the mandate to collect data on the use of excessive force by police and publish a report, each year._

_A decade later, we have movement in the right direction. The expansion of the FBI database to include the name and number of every individual authorised to wear a law enforcement badge is the first step in a long road to accountability. _

_Along that journey, we need to further establish a system for reporting and recording every incident or complaint against a law enforcement officer, as well as the outcomes when those complaints are upheld. This would not only resolve the current dearth of information when it comes to __accurate data on officer-involved killings, but also the black hole regarding the number of indictments for the killers._

_Four Hundred and Sixty One justifiable homicides is a number that concerns me. The word 'justifiable' is a particular concern in light of the fact that we have 'progressed' from the clarity of the __Fourth Amendment, which makes it unreasonable for a law enforcement officer to use excessive force during a lawful arrest or when defending oneself or others; to judicial interpretations which endorse the use of deadly force as a right of law enforcement, using the test of 'objective reasonableness'._

_Despite the lack of comprehensive data, media investigations and academic research suggest that police are rarely indicted for killing on the job. Houston Chronicle states that in Dallas between 2008-2012, of the, 81 shootings brought before a grand jury, there was only one indictment. In support of this but not limited to grand juries, research by __B__owling Green State University criminologist Philip Stinson has found that officers are rarely charged in on-duty killings._

_In comparison, according to the latest figures by the Bureau of Justice Statistics, US attorneys prosecuted 162,000 federal cases in 2010, grand juries failed to indict in 11. _

_Former New York state __Chief Judge Sol Wachtler__ once observed that a prosecutor could persuade a grand jury to "indict a ham sandwich." However from the piecemeal data gathered, it would appear more difficult to indict a ham sandwich when the accused is a law enforcement officer._

_Part of the blame, I believe, falls on Supreme Court jurisprudence. We need to revisit the legal precedent set by the two Supreme Court cases for the use of deadly force, using the test of 'objective reasonableness'. The first, __**Tennessee v. Garner (1985), **__found that police could use deadly force to prevent a fleeing suspect from escaping or if the suspect was believed to poses 'a significant threat of death or serious physical injury' to the officer or others. _

_The second case, __**Graham v. Connor (1989), **__determined that __"[t]he reasonableness of a particular use of force must be judged from the perspective of a reasonable officer on the scene, rather than with the 20/20 vision of hindsight."_

_This essentially prevents the second-guessing of an officer's decision to use deadly force under the constitutional provision of the Due Process clause, contained in the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, which states __that no one shall be "deprived of life, liberty or property without __due process__ of law__; or deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.'_

_Can we have a civil society if the people sworn to uphold the law are placed above the law? I believe not; nor can we have a just society if this culture of impunity is further advanced by the very people whose job it is to prosecute those who do wrong…_

* * *

><p>"Did you know about this?" Olivia swept into the Oval Office, holding the law journal up like a winning Bingo card, folded to reveal her dad's article.<p>

"Yes." Fitz rounded the desk, coming to a halt when Olivia smacked the magazine on his chest, with the accusation,

"You didn't tell me about it!"

"No," Fitz admitted, placing the magazine on his desk before gathering her stiff figure in his arms. "You have a blind spot when it comes to your father – you're usually blind to his good intentions."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are." He kissed the side of her cheek when her mouth evaded him.

"He should have run it past me, so we'd be prepared for the flack." She tried to push Fitz back. "I need to speak to him."

"No."

"Yes."

"LIvvie, we needed a legal expert's opinion. Your dad volunteered. At least, Rowan doesn't lie to kiss my ass and his opinion is respected among his peers."

"Dad volunteered?"

"I may have encouraged him in that respect."

Olivia looked at him for a long silent moment, then muttered, "You should have told me."

"I was going for the apology better than permission option," he murmured, trailing kisses to a point below her ear.

"Don't kiss me, you're making me lose focus…" She paused, when her gaze fell on the latest addition to the family photographs on his desk. "I wondered where that went."

Fitz turned, to see that Olivia's attention was on the sonogram of their baby. He faced her again with a soft smile. "Since you're carrying Baby Grant 24/7. I didn't think you'd mind if I had the picture."

Olivia angled a look at him, then released a deep sigh, burying her face in his chest. "Just once," she mumbled, "I'd like to stay mad at you for an entire day."

He laughed softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

* * *

><p><strong>News Update… <strong>

"_President Grant issued a directive today, which requires the Attorney General to appoint an Independent Prosecutor for all office-involved cases. This follows legal commentary by the President's father-in-law, Rowan Pope, who claims that the biases of local prosecutors favour law enforcement officers and helps them escape justice. _

"_The office of the Attorney General later released plans to expand the scope of liability for law enforcement officers found guilty of misconduct. When contacted for clarification, a spokesperson for the Attorney General said currently taxpayers pay for settlements in civil lawsuits, while the accused walk away with their badge, jobs and full entitlements. _

"_The spokesperson said the recommendations the Attorney General had received from several legal sources, ranged from disciplinary action recorded in personnel files to preventing profit from the proceeds of crime by way of media appearance fees, book or art sales that benefit perpetrators, instead of victims' families…"_

* * *

><p><strong>President Fitzgerald takes questions at White House Press Briefing …<strong>

**Media:** "Mr President, are you taking legal advice from your father-in-law?"

**Fitz:** "As a member of the Emeritus Faculty of Law at Cornell, Professor Pope is well aware of his First Amendment rights to free speech. Occasionally he chooses to exercise those freedoms within listening range of my ears, but am I taking legal advice from my father-in-law? No, I have not been accused of a crime that would warrant such advice."

**Media:** "How do you feel about his views on the Fourth Amendment?"

**Fitz:** "The Fourth Amendment affirms, and I quote, '_the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects,__against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized_.' I believe those words clearly uphold the importance of Due Process. Legal judgement may contradict that view, but I believe it is unethical for cops to have the right of deadly force without civilians having the right to question if their actions were based on subjective prejudice, instead of objective reasonableness."

**Media:** "Are you accusing our Supreme Court judges of being racist, Mr President?"

**Fitz:** "I'm saying we have a problem that needs fixing but we have our hands tied behind our backs."

**Media:** "How are you planning to fix the problem with legal precedent putting roadblocks in your path?"

**Fitz:** "As you point out, I can't change legal precedent, but we can increase oversight into the system. In fact we need to bring order to a system that is clearly unravelling at the seams…"

* * *

><p><strong>White House media release: <strong>

President Fitzgerald Grant issued the following Executive Orders today:

Executive order to prevent profiting from the proceeds of crime

Executive order for FBI to list all domestic hate groups as terror groups with the same standing as international terror organisations.

Executive Order to establish a Federal Hate Crime Tribunal with direct oversight by a board of citizens and civil rights organisations

**President Grant's message to the people:**

"I believe that we as a nation need to dispense with the antiquated idea that the Bill of Rights should only apply to those who share the same ethnicity, religion and gender of our Founding Fathers. I believe that we in the 21st century are wise enough to understand the benefits of diversity and its contribution to the creation of this great nation of ours. And in our wisdom, we must share the wealth of equality and justice with those who find it a scarcity in their daily lives.

"In support of these beliefs, I, as President, am doing what I can to make changes within the limitations of my office to fix a broken system. For these changes to be far-reaching and effective, I am calling for public support. In short, I need your help.

"You may think that you, as an individual, have little or no power compared to those elected to hold office. I can assure you that the power of the people is not an exaggeration. You have the power of your voice, the power of your convictions, the power of your actions and the power of your spend. More than that you have the power of your vote. Legislative change must benefit the people, and you – the people – must ensure that your legislators are working for your benefit.

"This is a monumental task, but to ensure we create an enduring legacy, we need to work together as a nation to stand by the convictions of our beliefs; we need to act on our words so they don't dissipate as empty rhetoric…"

* * *

><p><strong>Media update: <strong>

"_Congress is questioning the legality of the President's newly released Executive Orders to deal with 'lawlessness' in law enforcement. This view was refuted in a letter to the President sent by 10,000 police union members, protesting the new measures._

"_President Grant's has responded with the following statement: 'This is not a campaign of persecution. I would assure each and every police officer, that they have nothing to worry about, if they are not doing anything wrong. Our aim is to clean up irregularities, streamline processes and make law enforcement more accountable to the communities they police."_

"_In related news, First Lady Olivia Pope Grant hosted a picnic lunch on the South Lawn for the protestors calling themselves the Mothers for Justice. Many accuse Mrs Grant of fanning the flames of civil unrest to increase her husband's political capital in an election year._

"_Mrs Grant is said to have worked 'a miracle' in producing a winner from the first lacklustre Grant for President Campaign. Sources say she's now playing the race card in a bid to turn the tide in President Grant's favour for a second term. [Pictures of Olivia shown posing with protestors wearing 'Vote for Grant' election pins]._

"_Sources once close to the President say Mrs Grant has used her influence to torpedo President Grant's career with her unorthodox ideas. They say that she is manipulating her husband's insecurities to isolate him from his once-trusted advisors to become the President's sole point of reference. There is great concern that Mrs Grant is steering public policy through her husband when she is not an elected official…"_

* * *

><p>"We can't ignore this," Fitz said firmly, helping Olivia bank the pillows against the headboard.<p>

"We can." She knelt before him on the bed, sliding her arms around his waist. "I can weather this storm if you can."

"I don't want to." He smoothed the hair back from her face with gentle hands.

"Fitz, they know I am your weak spot. If we make a fuss, they're just going to escalate the attacks until it's all about me and not your policies."

"I know," Fitz cupped her face in his hands. "But we're going to answer this."

Olivia gusted a sigh, sneaking sly hands into his boxer shorts. "You are so stubborn."

"Mmm," he grunted, "Feels like you found my stubborn spot, which…" he took a deep breath as Olivia smiled wickedly, "fits perfectly with yours."

* * *

><p><strong>Taping of Interview with ONNNN founder, Onah, in the Blue Room with President Fitzgerald Grant and First Lady Olivia Pope…<strong>

Mr President, Mrs Grant thank you for inviting us to the White House.

"It's our pleasure," Fitz smoothed his thumb over Olivia's hand clasped in his.

"Mrs Grant, may I say that I think pregnancy suits you, you are positively glowing. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"No," Olivia laughed, exchanging a look with Fitz. "We're waiting to be surprised."

"President Grant, the first term of your presidency has been tumultuous to say the least – a divorce, a death in the family, a new wife. Critics are saying your personal life is impacting your policies."

Olivia felt Fitz tense but his response was calm. "I cannot fault that accusation. Loving Olivia has opened my eyes to a lot of injustices that minority Americans still face. I would imagine that, as no stranger to these injustices yourself, you would not disagree that they exist."

Onah gave a small smile. "There are those who would say that African Americans are not the only minority to be discriminated by the institutional injustices that you are trying to address."

"It's true African-Americans are not the only victims of our systems of injustice. We have Native Americans, Latinos, and Asian Americans reporting death and injury from police brutality; nor of being unable to find adequate justice in our courts. This is what we want to change. We're doing our best to fix the system – which would benefit everyone, if we get it right."

"Do you have time to get it right with only a few months more until the next Presidential election?"

Olivia spoke up, "This isn't a fix that can be achieved by one President in one term. These systematic injustices have become entrenched for centuries. It's going to take long-term commitment and it is the voters who can help ensure that our elected legislators stay committed."

"It sounds like you're not sure if President Grant will win a second term, Mrs Grant?"

Olivia tightened her grip on Fitz. "No one can be sure of that. I can say though that I know my husband is the best person for the job. He makes his choices from a good place – for his family, for his country, for the people he has been elected to serve. But the rest of us can't sit back and wait for one individual to fix every problem – that's a dictatorship, not a democracy. It also makes that one individual vulnerable. Fitz is an independent. He has neither the support of his old party nor the support of the Democrats who want their man in government. So he needs the support of the American people."

"President Grant, despite your wife's apparent caution, independent polls would suggest that your approval rating is way ahead of either of your political rivals."

"Polls are like the weather, good today, bad tomorrow. I'm not paying too much attention to that right now. Like Olivia said, we've got a blueprint for change but it's going to take long-term commitment to make sure those changes are effective. I want people to participate actively in this democracy, not just by turning up to vote or voicing their dissent but also by taking the initiative. We have a democracy of the people, by the people for the people. Those words cannot be left to gather dust in our constitution; every one of us needs to breathe life into those words to make them a reality in our daily lives instead of an idea we're always striving towards – an effective democracy needs active participation by its people—"

Fitz stopped as the doors slammed open to reveal Karen breathless from running. "Mom, Dad, come quick! Poppy is having her babies!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hello there. I have returned to the land of the living (from whence I left after reading something about 100 chapters!) :D

To reassure those who are actually keen on taking this journey into the literal wilderness with me, I meant I want to end _**this**_ part of the story. I'm planning a third part, but first I have to end the election. Also I had hoped to finish this story way before now – I wrote the first part in a little more than a month, but part 2 is still going after more than a year! Seriously I can't believe those of you who still follow this story have stuck with it this long, especially when at times I've seriously lost the plot!

Now about this chapter - it should be called the theft of other people's ideas, because every solution here was taken from actual suggestions other people had written about, starting with the wonderful **Clio1792**'s suggestion of an independent prosecutor. The corresponding Google search gave me so much gold that I just had to include all the ones that made sense to me. (Besides, seriously, what do I know about fixing law enforcement in America – I didn't even know there were 20,000 cough*renegade*, cough*anarchic* organisations and individuals, loosely associated with 'law enforcement'). Most of these solutions came from Ilann Maazel's article: _Opinion: How to Start Policing the Police (For Real)_

Also please forgive Rowan, Fitz and every other character in this chapter for any legal, procedural or Constitutional mistakes I have made on their behalf!

BTW, I completely agree that Shondaland has wasted an incredible opportunity with the platform they had– wasted the opportunity of putting real issues to a world audience (based on real life resources instead of Google search), wasted the opportunity of giving us an insight into the work of a real life crisis manager (after season 1), wasted the talents of Kerry and Tony who were helping a lot of small business people thrive on the sidelines (seriously what is this title 'Where's the Black Lady' - I'm sure it will be herald a dynamic discussion on race *sigh*), etc…

This is exactly why I have so much contempt for Shondaland and the executives at ABC. They had a platform to educate as well as entertain – but from recent reviews and comments it appears they are doing much of neither. They seem to take pleasure in their power to give the majority of their audience exactly what they don't want, and yet expect us to gleefully lap up their crap. I'm speculating that Shondaland and ABC spend too much time watching or participating in S&M or egotistic head gas has fried their brains. Or Shonda is doing her best to kill the show and Kerry's career, but ABC doesn't want to pull the plug because of all the celebrity guests on the show and friends of the show.

Still Scandal did give a smidgin of a chance for those of us who write for fun, to reach out to once-were-fans-of-scandal, and I'm so glad to have the opportunity to share ideas with you all, including some of my favourite writers on this site. So, so glad for fanfiction ;))

Anyway here are the other references (I have plagiarised) for this chapter, please see Scandal-Maniac tumblr for links:

The police

POLICE STRUCTURE AND ORGANIZATION

Police: Organization and Management - The American System Of Policing

Republicans and Democrats have vastly different views on race and police. But they agree on solutions.

The NYC Cop Who Strangled Eric Garner to Death Is Free Thanks to a Legal Flaw. Here's How Voters Can Fix It

Here's the Shocking Tally of How Many Americans Die From Police Shootings

Seven Reasons Police Brutality Is Systemic, Not Anecdotal

When militarised police meet institutional racism

What Has Changed About Police Brutality In America, From Rodney King To Michael Brown

Not Just Ferguson: 11 Eye-Opening Facts About America's Militarized Police Forces

Why The Ferguson Police Force Looks Like A Military Unit

America's police have become too militarised

Dear GOP: Fix the Damn Justice System!

Why It's Impossible to Indict a Cop

Allegations Of Police Misconduct Rarely Result In Charges

Opinion: How to Start Policing the Police (For Real)

How Objective is the "Objective Reasonableness" Standard in Police Brutality Cases?

Objective Reasonableness Not 20/20 Hindsight

It's Incredibly Rare For A Grand Jury To Do What Ferguson's Just Did

Obama asks Congress to fund 50,000 police body cameras

Obama resists demands to curtail police militarisation calling instead for improved officer training

List of killings by law enforcement officers in the United States

US Police Have Killed Over 5,000 Civilians Since 9/11

DHS Announces Grant Guidance for Fiscal Year (FY) 2014 Preparedness Grants


	47. Dogs and Doggerels

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Darth has got the smug look of a brand new father," Olivia murmured, taking another helping of steak, made especially for her.<p>

"That sounded like a dig at me," Fitz smiled, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he passed by her chair.

"What's a cross between a shorkie and a pug?" asked Jerry.

"A shug?" Olivia caught a flying spoon and handed it back to Teddy who chuckled and threw it again, this time at Fitz, who managed to duck before it made contact.

"I need to wear a flack jacket to breakfast." Fitz muttered, as a staffer picked up the spoon on the floor and replaced it with a new one on the table beside Teddy, which Fitz quickly moved aside.

"Dadda, spoon."

"Promise not to throw."

Teddy nodded but immediately tossed the spoon Fitz gave him, chortling when Felicia lifted him out of the baby chair onto her lap. "We are going to teach this young man the proper use of a spoon. What's this?"

"Spoon."

"What's this?" Felicia placed Teddy's bowl of porridge on his plate.

"Prridge."

"Yes, porridge. We use the spoon to eat porridge."

"I gather Karen won't be going to school today," Rowan said, glancing up from the newspaper he was reading towards her empty chair.

"No," Olivia confirmed. "She's exhausted, after checking on Poppy all night."

"I checked on Karen checking on Poppy. Can I stay home too?" Jerry pleaded.

"No," Olivia and Fitz said together.

"You need to get an education if you want to be a journalist, Jerry. Maths, science and literature all come in handy when you're covering major news stories like Poppy's birth," said Rowan, turning a page of his paper.

* * *

><p>"Man this country is going to the dogs," said Mack, looking down at the front page of the newspaper that had blown across the street and smacked into his shopping trolley. "Them puppies will have a better life than you or me. We sure are livin' the great American Dream."<p>

Hollis who was snoozing on his cardboard sheet, grunted.

Mack tapped Hollis' leg with his boot. "Hey Texas, wake up man. We got an early appointment with the free barber on Main. We need to beat the rush before the other deadbeats get in line. The dude's a professional and real popular round these parts. He'll have you lookin' like your old self in no time at all."

Hollis just grunted again.

Mack sighed and rummaged inside his trolley. "I've been savin' this for an emergency. Looks like you're it." He unearthed a bottle half-filled with amber liquid, and gave Hollis a vigorous shake of his shoulder. "Drink this, man. The headache will be worth it."

Hollis opened one eye, then the other. Then he struggled to sit up. "You been hidin' the moonshine from me, Mack?" He groused, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"Yeah. 'Cuz this stuff ain't free."

Hollis took a swig from the bottle. Then extended it to Mack, who shook his head. "I need to stay sober to stop you wonderin' off into oncoming traffic. Or worse, pickin' a fight with a cop."

Hollis took another swig. "Why don't you let me loose? I'd be out of your hair for good."

"You kiddin', Texas. You're the first friend I've had since my dog died. Besides, it ain't much of a conversation talking to myself all the time."

Both men fell silent, staring straight ahead onto the street. Then Mack drew the paper to him again.

"What you readin'?" Hollis muttered, turning to peer at the page. A second later he'd grabbed the sheet out of Mack's hand.

"Hey! Didn't your Momma teach you no manners? I was reading that!"

"Look!" Hollis shoved a section of the paper right under Mack's nose. "You see that?"

Mack peered at a publicity portrait. "Democrat Samuel Reston will dine with the Homeless of LA this weekend." Mack shook his head. "It's a publicity stunt. He wants to be seen as the man of the people. He knows we people out here living on the street have got no vote."

Hollis grabbed Mack's coat sleeve. "This ain't about votes! We need a seat at his table!"

Mack stared at Hollis, then grabbed his bottle back. "You've had enough."

* * *

><p>Olivia and Fitz were leaving the Family Dining Room Karen raced up nearly crashing into them.<p>

"Whoa!" Fitz released Olivia's hand to catch Karen in his arms and lift her up. "Where's the fire?"

"Daddy, I slept in! I'm going to be late for school."

"We've decided you can skip school today," Olivia said, rubbing Karen's back. "You didn't get much sleep last night and we thought you'd like to spend time with Poppy and her brood."

Karen's eyes widened with delight, then she sighed. "I can't, Mom. Suzie and I have to talk about dinosaurs in class today, she won't be happy if I'm not there. She hates standing in front of the class by herself."

Olivia looked at Fitz. "We can't disappoint Suzie."

"Dinosaurs are a big deal," he agreed solemnly.

Karen eyed them in turn. "I'm nearly nine. I know when you're teasing me."

Fitz chuckled, setting Karen down on her feet. "Okay, pumpkin. We'll stop teasing, run in there and grab some breakfast. I'll tell the guys to wait for you."

"You don't have to. I'll grab an apple and some toast to go."

Watching her run into the Dining Room, Fitz murmured, "That sounded very Chief of Staff."

"Or Leader of the Free World."

Fitz grinned, curving his arm around her shoulder and shifting her close. "Did you just take a swipe at me?"

"If the patriarchy fits…" Olivia murmured.

Fitz leaned back. "Patriarchy? Take that back."

Olivia shook her head, reaching up to straighten his tie before sliding her hands down his chest and around his waist. A smile teased her lips as she watched his ears turn red.

"Livvie…" He whispered, his gaze focused on her mouth. "I'm a very progressive guy."

"When you're not being Presidential and protective."

"I thought you liked me being Presidential and protective?" he grumbled, as they walked towards the stairs.

"Maybe."

"Maybe most of the time or maybe all of the time?"

"Maybe sometimes."

"That's mean."

Olivia laughed, reaching for his hand. "Come on, Mr President, you have a plane to catch."

Fitz dragged his feet, reminding Olivia of Jerry on his way to school, and she chuckled again when he muttered, "Maybe I'll give Arizona a raincheck."

"You can't. You've got very important meetings with the Governor of Arizona and migrant workers' unions about immigration reform. And you can't disappoint the media, they're waiting to take pictures of you in a great, big hat."

Fitz tugged her against him, pulling free of her hand to circle his arm around her waist. "I may be over 50 but I know when you're teasing me."

Olivia smiled, leaning back against his shoulder. "What exactly are you accusing me of?."

"Being mean and teasing me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are." His smile hovered temptingly close but didn't make contact.

Her gazes soft, she said huskily, "I'm done teasing. Kiss me…"

He gave a grunt of laughter a second before his mouth latched onto hers.

* * *

><p>Karen was the first to arrive in class, carrying her books and laptop which Jerry and a couple of agents were going to help connect to a projector.<p>

"Sure you don't want me to navigate?" Jerry asked after the task was completed in minutes.

Karen shook her head, "Suzie's going to do that."

"Come on, Jer," one of the agents grinned, "You can't skip your math test hiding in here."

"I'm not hiding, I'm helping. That was a legit offer."

"Now you've hurt my feelings, lying to my face like that," the agent grinned, steering Jerry out of the room.

The other agent lingered, "You need anything else, kiddo?"

Karen shook her head, smiling. "No, I should be okay."

"Well, you know where to find us if you need us."

Karen nodded, it was a daily reminder of the Command Centre at the school, used exclusively by White House agents on school detail for Jerry and herself.

* * *

><p>"Miss me?"<p>

Olivia laughed into the phone. "You haven't been gone 10 minutes."

"I miss you," Fitz reproached.

"Okay, I miss you."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it."

Olivia laughed out loud. "Shouldn't you be briefing the press on what you'll be talking about?"

"They're reading your press notes. Besides, I'd rather be speaking to you."

Olivia smiled and they shared a moment of silence, then Fitz whispered, "Are you alone?"

"No."

"Are they getting you ready for the photoshoot?"

"Yes."

"I'd like nude shots of you taken just for me."

"Fitz!"

"But I'm afraid they'll get into the wrong hands."

Olivia smiled at the sigh that gusted down the line. "Fitz…"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He sighed. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Now say something sexy."

"Mis-ter Pres-i-dent…"

"Mmmmm…now say it without laughing…"

* * *

><p>"Oh! You're here! I was afraid you wouldn't come because of the puppies!" Suzie swept into the classroom with all her paraphernalia, including a papier mache dinosaur and meteorite that was carried in by Suzie's bodyguard.<p>

Dropping her books on her desk, Suzie pushed back a swathe of hair from her face and asked, "Did you bring pictures?"

Karen nodded, turning on her laptop and clicking on the video Jerry had saved for her. Suzie's bodyguard, dropped the dinosaur and meteorite on the nearest surface, murmured something indistinct and left the room.

The girls were so engrossed in the video that they jumped when a face thrust between them short while later, demanding, "What's going on?"

"We're watching puppies being born."

"Ewww! Gross!"

Karen and Suzie giggled, then Suzie sighed, "I think they are so cu-uttte."

"Let me see," Another curious kid joined their little group and soon Karen was surrounded, but the gathering quickly dispersed when the teacher came in, asking everyone to take their seats as they had a lot of presentations to get through.

Karen and Suzie were up first. The dinosaur and meteorite were transferred from Suzie's desk to the teacher's and Karen had just set up the video slides about the 'evolution and extinction of dinosaurs' when a car began beeping.

There were giggles in class when the Principal's voice came over the intercom. "Seth, your car alarm's going off again. Can you take care of it, please?"

There were more giggles when the teacher groaned, rolled his eyes and hurried out.

As soon as the door shut behind him, a kid ran up and picked up the papier mache meteorite and tossed it across the room.

"Don't!" Suzie cried, chasing after meteorite turned volleyball. "You'll break it!"

"Give that back!" Karen demanded outraged as she tried to intercept a throw. "Don't be mean!"

Suddenly the laughter died from the face of the kid holding the meteorite as a pair of arms reached over Karen's shoulder and plucked it up.

"Here you go, Karen. Here's your ball."

Karen turned to stare at the tall kid who was holding out the meteorite.

"Thank you, Evan."

The boy stared, then gave a shy smile. "You know my name."

"You're a junior. You sit by yourself in the cafeteria."

"You noticed," his smile grew wider.

* * *

><p>"Isn't that the kid who's got a crush on Sweetpea?" said an agent, looking at CCTV monitor.<p>

"Yeah, but this is the first time he's said anything to her."

"What do you wanna bet he's sweating up a storm?"

"Man, I remember my first crush – little Annie-Sue. She sure could throw a mean punch…" reminisced the first agent, leaning back in his chair, preparing to take a leisurely stroll down memory lane.

"That fucking kid!" a roar cut through the genial mood in the room as an agent sprang to his feet and raced towards the door.

On their screens, the others saw a boy take a swing at the CCTV camera with a chair, a second before the screen went blank.

After a stunned silence, a voice demanded, "Why'd you do that? You just destroyed school property."

"Yeah," agreed Evan, dropping the chair which clattered onto the floor. "They were spying on us." He jumped down from the desk and reached for Karen's hand but she snatched it away.

He stood for a moment looking at her, then shook his head and walked towards the door, where he'd placed his school bag. He sat on the floor and started taking out aerosol cans and what looked fireworks, calmly assembling the lot as the whole class watched.

"What are you doing, Evan?"

The boy on the floor didn't reply.

"What are you doing?" Suzie asked.

When he still didn't respond, Suzie nudged Karen who'd begun backing away from the group towards her laptop still on the teacher's desk. "You ask."

"What are you doing?" Karen obliged, in a quieter tone.

"I'm making rockets."

"That doesn't look a rocket," said a boy, approaching Evan for a closer inspection.

"Yeah, I looked it up on the Internet," called out a girl sitting at her desk in the back row. "Fixing fireworks to a spray can makes it explode."

Evan looked at her with a fierce scowl. "Get away from that. I don't want anyone touching their laptops."

"Why?" she scowled back.

"Because I said so. Now move it!"

"No." The girl went back to her computer then jumped in surprise when Evan's fist sent it flying against the wall.

"You broke it!" she accused, jumping up, only to gasp when Evan grabbed her by the arm and shoved her against the opposite wall. "Stay there and shut up!" Then he glared at the rest of the kids. "I want everyone to come over here and stay quiet."

They did as he asked and stayed quiet for about a minute, before someone asked, "Are you making bombs?"

"Bombs?!" Several kids gasped. "He can't make bombs. That's not legal!"

"Who's gonna arrest me? You?"

* * *

><p>Olivia's cell phone rang in the middle of the Vogue photoshoot and her chief of staff let her know it was Jerry.<p>

"Jerry?" Olivia padded barefoot over the Red Room carpet, trailing gauzy layers of a haute-couture maternity ballgown after her, ignoring the frustrated hands-in-the-air gesture from the photographer and lighting crew.

"Ma'am, you just ruined the cover shot!"

"Jerry?" Olivia answered the phone.

"Mom! Karen's class is being held hostage by a kid with a bomb! I've got to go, Mom! They won't let me stay!"

"Jerry?! Jerry!" Olivia tried to call him back, but all she got was his voicemail. "Get my clothes," Olivia told her chief of staff.

The Vogue crew stared as Olivia shed the ball gown, and pulled on her own clothes and shoes while hurrying for the exit.

"Ma'am? Hey! Mrs Grant!"

In the corridor, she nearly crashed into Tom on his way in.

"Jerry called me," she told Tom who was breathing visible as he to an abrupt halt beside her. "Now I can't get him on the phone."

"He's talking to the President. The school is being evacuated. Jerry's on his way home. Zeke's waiting for us in your office."

* * *

><p>"What do we know about the kid who's taken the class hostage?" Olivia asked.<p>

"According to the intel that Oscar send through, the kid's a loner. His parents are away on business. He's been looked after by live-in staff. They say he spends most of his time playing video games and working out on his Dad's home gym."

Barely had he got the last word out, than Olivia's phone rang again. It was Jerry.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Mom, I didn't want to leave but they made me."

"Jer, I need you to tell me everything you know about this kid with the bomb."

"He's an asshole, Mom. A real creepy dude who follows Kaz around when he thinks she's not looking. I should have punched him in the face when I had the chance."

"Jer, I need you to tell Abby and Quinn everything you know about this kid, okay? Here's the number…"

* * *

><p>"I need to pee," Karen announced.<p>

"No one leaves this room."

"I am not going to pee in front of the class!" Karen glared at Evan.

"You are going to have to because I'm not letting you out of here."

"I need to pee too," Suzie said.

"Me too!" A chorus of voices came from around them.

Evan pulled out a gun from his gym bag and pointed it at the kids. "Shut up! No one is going to pee and no one is leaving this room!"

The kids fell silent.

* * *

><p>"I'm on my way home," Fitz said over the phone.<p>

"I'm on my way to the school," Olivia replied.

He was on Air Force One. She was in a motorcade of SUVs filled with agents

"Olivia."

"I'll see you there." She ended the call. It rang immediately.

"You're not going to make me change my mind, Fitz."

"I know… I just," he sighed. "…Be careful."

"I will," she responded softly.

After Fitz rang off, Olivia's phone went off again.

"Yes, Huck?"

"The place is crawling with cops and FBI. They're not letting anyone through. Not even parents. They've got the police chief out here running interference."

"Does anyone know what kind of bomb is in that room?"

"No."

"How much time do we have?"

"No one knows."

After he rang off, Olivia called Abby and Quinn. "Anything?"

"The cops are here," Abby said. "We didn't have time to get inside."

"But we did manage to catch the kid's dog," Quinn added. "It was making a run for it after one of the cops left the front door wide open. Do you want me to bring it to the school?"

"No," said Abby.

"Yes," said Olivia.

* * *

><p>The kids were seated on the floor, silent, still grouped in a huddle in a corner of the room.<p>

In the quiet of the room, the ringing of a phone startled them all, including Evan.

"Who the fuck is this?" he roared answering his cell. "How did you get this number?"

The kids stared silently as Evan listened to the response with a scowl on his face. "My school file is private! This is an invasion of privacy. I know my rights! When my mom finds out about this she'll sue your ass!" He listened some more, then snarled, "What do I want? I want to blow the school up and every kid in this class. That's what I want!"

* * *

><p>Olivia's motorcade made it to the school in record time only to be stopped by a ring of heavily armed police who were keeping the media, curious bystanders and furious parents at bay.<p>

"I'll take care of this," Tom said, getting out of the vehicle

Before he could stop her, Olivia followed. She marched right past him up to the cops and demanded, "I need you to step out of the way!"

The police chief immediately broke away from the manicured talons of a woman who'd been threatening to make his 'head roll' after she had him 'fired!' and jogged over to Olivia.

"Ma'am, ma'am, we're not letting anyone through – we need to keep everyone out of the school zone. And I mean everyone."

"My daughter is in there! If you don't let me through, I will have to drive through this police cordon!"

"Ma'am, Mrs Grant, Olivia. I realise you're upset, but—"

Olivia held up a hand, cutting him short. "You don't understand, every second I waste out here is a second lost!" When the chief stared at her nonplussed, she turned and pushed at the barrier of cops. "Move damnit!"

"Ma'am, if you keep doing that, we'll have to shoot you!" gritted the cop facing Olivia.

"Then shoot me!" Olivia yelled in his face.

The instant he pulled his gun on her, Tom had his gun in the cop's face.

"Fuck!" yelled the police chief. "Put your weapons away! Can't you see the media out there watching us like hawks! I SAID PUT YOUR GOTDAMN GUNS AWAY!"

No one budged.

"I need these cops to step aside and let me through," Olivia glared at the police chief.

"I'd listen to her if I was you," Tom said calmly. "Or this will get ugly fast."

Seeing that no one had put their weapons away, the police chief muttered, "Damnit, okay! Let her through. This is looking bad enough already."

* * *

><p>"Are you really going to kill us all?" Suzie asked tearfully.<p>

"Yes."

"We're really going to die?"

"Yes. Hold this!" He thrust a firework taped to an aerosol can at Suzie.

"No! I'm not going to hold it!" Suzie thrust her hands behind her back.

Evan immediately pointed his gun at her. "Hold it or I'll shoot you. Either way you're going to die. Now or later it's your choice!"

"But I don't want to die – now or later!" she wailed.

"Stop CRYING!" Evan roared.

"Stop yelling at her! Can't you see you're making her feel worse?!" Karen pulled Suzie close and began rocking her in her arms. Then eyeing Evan coldly, she added, "If we're going to die then I'd like to say goodbye to my family."

"How are you going to do that? Did Ms Perfect break the school rules and bring her phone to class instead of keeping it in her locker?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then you can't talk to your parents."

"We can use your phone."

"Anyone who touches my phone is dead. And you know what means – that's a one way ticket to hell."

"I don't want to go to hell!" Suzie let out another wail, immediately joined by several more kids who started weeping

Karen turned to Suzie and gave her a hug. "It's okay, Suzie. I know you'll go to heaven. Because you're kind and good and haven't shot anyone."

"What do you think heaven's like?" asked a kid next to Suzie.

"There'll be lots of puppies," said Karen.

"What about bunny rabbits?" asked a tearful Suzie.

"Bunny rabbits, ducklings, kittens. You can have all the pets you want, your Mommy and Daddy won't be there to say no."

"I hope there's a rollercoaster in heaven," said another kid. "One that doesn't make you sick when you reach the top."

"You don't need a roller-coater," said a kid in the front of the group. "We'll be angels. We'll have wings! Right…?"

"Hold this and you'll find out," Evan smirked, shoving his home-made explosive into the kid's hands.

* * *

><p>Olivia arrived at the school riding a wave of barely contained fury. She was met by Karen's special agents waiting on the steps.<p>

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry—" One of them began.

"We don't have time for that right now," Olivia interrupted. "Where is she? Where's her classroom located"

"We'll take you to her," another agent supplied in a subdued tone.

With Tom and the retinue of Secret Service agents in tow, Olivia hurried along deserted corridors, only to be stopped by the FBI and SWAT commander. "Ma'am, you cannot be here. We're trying to contain the situation by limiting the casualties—!"

Olivia cut the SWAT commander short. "I need to see Karen."

There was a pause as looks were exchanged. Then the FBI official said in a sonorous tone, "Ma'am, you have a right to be concerned but we cannot have you making a bad situation worse."

"Especially as the Principal and class teacher are refusing to leave until the kids are safe. We don't need to keep adding potential victims to the final body count," the cop muttered.

Olivia gave him a blistering look. "There will be no final body count unless you're talking about the bodies walking out of here alive!"

The cop's face turned red as he began blustering, "I'm talking about safety. You need to let the experts handle this—"

"Get out of my way!"

The SWAT commander looked over at the FBI official, who shrugged and made one last-ditch effort. "Ma'am, if things go pear-shaped and we have to answer to a congressional hearing as to what happened here today, it'll be your ass that gets fried."

"If it hasn't been already," muttered the SWAT commander.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, now move out of my way."

* * *

><p>"Why are you trying to stop me?! You let the Grant woman through!" A parent raged at the Police chief. "My taxes pay for her lifestyle and yours, asshole! I'll have your badge if you don't let me get my kid out of there!"<p>

"I don't take kindly to threats," the police chief began.

"That's no threat! That's a promise!"

"Let me reiterate, we cannot let anyone through because the Federal Government cannot afford the avalanche of civil claims that will be launched by your lawyers if you happen to stub your toe while running away from an exploding bomb. We're doing this not just to save your ass, but to save ours too."

"Fuck you!"

"That's not an option right now."

* * *

><p>Olivia pushed past a group of police and FBI agents crowding the corridor right outside the classroom. Stuck to the door was a sheet of paper with large bold writing proclaiming – 'Beware of Bombs! Breaking door open will trigger explosion."<p>

"Have you made contact?" she asked the hostage negotiator.

He nodded, "We got the kid's cell phone number from the school file."

"What did he say?"

"He wants to detonate the bomb. We don't know what it is or where it is. We know from thermal imaging that the kids are all in a group in the far end of the room. So far no one's been injured."

"Has anyone called this kid's parents?"

"We tried calling the mother. The school only has her number on file, but she's stuck in a meeting."

Olivia took out her own phone and called Fitz. "We need the military to collect this kid's mother."

"Give me the details."

Olivia got the details out of the reluctant hostage negotiator and passed them on.

Then the group lapsed into an awkward silence, until Olivia asked the hostage negotiator, "Can you get the kid back on the line? Ask him if I can speak to Karen?"

"Ma'am, I don't think…"

"My daughter is in there. I need to speak to her."

There was another exchange of looks and the phone call was made. When Evan answered, the negotiator relayed Olivia's request, then advised, "Ma'am, the answer is no."

Olivia snatched the phone from the negotiator. "Evan, I'm Karen's mother. I need to speak to her."

There was a pause, then a sullen, "Why?"

"If you're going to… hurt… my little girl, I need to speak to her one last time."

There was a pause, then Evan asked, "Is my Mom out there too?"

"She's on her way."

"Don't lie to me!"

Olivia put the phone on speaker, then made a call on her own cell to Evan's mother, speaking loud enough for Evan to hear. "This is Mrs Olivia Grant, the First Lady of the United States. I am standing in front of the class where your son, Evan, is holding my daughter Karen and her friends hostage. I need you to tell Evan where you are right now."

"Was the military escort necessary? My client thinks I'm an escaped felon!" a female voice snapped.

"Tell me where you are!"

"There was a pause, then the woman said sounding surprised, "I'm on my way to the damned school, but you know that."

Olivia cut the phone and called out, "Evan, did you hear that? Your mother is on her way here."

"You sent the military to get my Mom?"

"Yes…Can I speak to Karen now?"

"No."

* * *

><p>"Damnit! There's a police cordon. Now what do we do?" Quinn asked.<p>

"Don't ask me! I've got a dog in my face and I can barely breathe!" Abby gritted, trying to push the dog to the backseat. It wouldn't budge. "You need to think of something fast before I suffocate!"

"Open the window, that'll let some air in."

Abby did better – she opened the door and got out, holding a hand to her chest and making a production of gagging for air. In the meantime, the dog seeing freedom was just an open door away, sprang out and took off.

"Abby! You opened the door! I told you to open the window!" Quinn jumped out from the driver's side and started running after the dog.

"Let it go! It's heading for the school!" Abby yelled, running after Quinn.

"It's running towards the cops. Cops with guns! Hey! _HEY! DON'T SHOOT THAT DOG!"_

* * *

><p>A SWAT team member inside the school, held up his hand for silence as he pressed his other hand to his earpiece.<p>

"There's a dog running loose outside."

Olivia immediately turned to him, grabbing his arm. "That's Evan's dog. Make sure they don't hurt it! I need that dog brought in here alive."

The message was relayed by a dubious looking cop.

"Can you hear dogs barking?" a kid spoke up from the seated huddle.

"I can check the news on my laptop," said another kid.

"No one moves," threatened Evan, taking out his phone. After a moment he cried. "Barney! What the fuck is Barney doing out there?! I left him locked in my room!"

"Barney?" Karen asked.

"My dog! He hates cops! Someone needs to get him before they shoot him!"

"My Mom can save him."

"Your Mom is dead!"

Karen stared at him solemnly, then said softly, "My mom is outside. You were speaking to her before. Do you want my Mom to save Barney or not?"

Evan scowled. "Barney's smart. He'll know how to get away."

The sound of a shot rang out from the phone, and the livecast news reporter announced excitedly, "Is the dog chase over? No, it's okay, folks, that was a false alarm. The dog's running free again, but there's blood on his leg. He's been injured…"

"I need your phone, Evan." Karen held out her hand. "My mom will make sure the next bullet won't find Barney."

* * *

><p>"Mom, can you hear me?"<p>

Olivia almost sobbed with relief. "Karen?! Karen! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Mom."

"My dog!" a belligerent voice interrupted.

"Mom, Evan's dog has escaped and he's at the school. Evan doesn't want the cops to shoot him. Can you help save him?"

"Okay, on one condition. Evan, can you hear me?"

"Yes," came the surly response.

"Evan, I'll make a deal. I'll save your dog if you let the kids out of here."

"No."

"It's Barney, Evan. Do you want the cops to kill him?"

"I'm going to die too. Barney and I can be together in the afterlife."

"Or he could be paralysed for life. Is that what you want for him? He's out there probably looking for you."

"He hates when I leave him alone," Evan agreed softly.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Is my mom here yet?"

"Not yet, but she should be here soon… Do we have a deal?" Olivia repeated

"I'm thinking..."

"Evan?"

"Okay, the other kids can go, but not Karen."

"No, Karen leaves too."

"It's okay, Mom. I'll stay."

"No, baby. You have to leave too."

"She can't leave. She has to stay!"

The phone was cut.

"Shall I tell them to shoot the dog?" asked a cop standing nearby.

"No," said Olivia, dialling through to Evan again. "I've got another offer – you let all the kids go, including Karen and I'll take their place…"

* * *

><p>When Fitz stepped off Air Force One, the Secret Service chief was waiting for him.<p>

"We have a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

"Your wife is currently negotiating to trade places with the hostages."

"_WHAT?!"_

* * *

><p>"You want to take Karen's place?"<p>

"Yes."

"Why? She isn't even your kid."

"She's my kid, Evan. In every way that counts, legally, emotionally, I'm her mom."

Evan was silent. "My mother doesn't love me like that."

"My mother, the one who died, didn't either." Olivia heard Karen's voice speak up.

"I know," Evan said softly, "It's one of the things we have in common."

"Is that why you're trying to kill me?"

"I just want to spend time with you. For all eternity."

"Evan," Olivia spoke then, "Do you think it's fair for Karen to spend Eternity with a guy she doesn't know."

"She'll have a lot of time to get to know me."

"Evan, listen to me, it doesn't work that way. If you have feelings for Karen and you don't want to make her feel like she's stuck in a prison, you need to let her get to know you before anything happens. Tell her about yourself, your hopes, your dreams, what you like, what you hate, why you named your dog Barney."

"He's a St Bernard."

"Is a St Bernard one of those Swiss Mountain dogs?" Karen asked curiously.

"You know about St Bernards?" Evan sounded impressed.

"I like dogs. Is Barney huge?"

"Heck yeah!" Evan chuckled. "And he's still a puppy."

"Why did you want a St Bernard?"

Olivia looked over at the listening cops and agents as Karen steered the conversation along. Then they all groaned as Evan cut the call, leaving them in silence.

* * *

><p>"You cannot go to the school!" The Secret Service chief yelled at Fitz when reason failed. "This is a matter of national security! I cannot, by law, let you walk into an unsecured site which threatens your safety!"<p>

"My family is in danger! Don't you get that?!"

"With all due respect, sir, you are the President of the United States. The need to keep you safe is legislated by law."

"So is the need to safeguard my immediate family!"

"That's why Tom's down there looking out for Olivia and Karen. I cannot let you go charging in like the cavalry. It could blow the whole place up. Literally."

"If I get blown to bits, Zeke will issue an executive pardon to prevent any legal ramifications."

"That's mighty kind of you, sir, but that will not be necessary since you won't be going to the school."

Fitz about to reply was distracted by a ringing phone.

"Dad! Karen's laptop is sending a live feed to my computer!"

"Jerry, slow down! What are you talking about?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm about to leave for the school." Fitz ignored the tide of red rising above the security chief's collar. "Now tell me again about Karen's computer."

"She's connected to my computer. I can hear everything in that class and I just checked my iCloud, one of the kid's talked about fireworks attached to spray cans—"

Fitz yelled the info to the Security chief who got on the phone to Tom.

In the excitement, Fitz simply walked past the security chief towards the waiting Marine One chopper. The agents nearby just had time to stare at their distracted boss before hurrying after the President.

* * *

><p>"We need to turn on the sprinklers to soak the gunpowder in the fireworks!" The SWAT commander whispered furiously.<p>

"No! NO!" hissed Olivia.

"I'm with Olivia," said Tom, "The moment you hose that kid that kid down, he'll start shooting up the room. Jerry said the kid's been threatening to shoot the class."

"How did that kid get a gun past Security?"

"Ma'am, what do you want me to do with this do?"

Olivia looked over and saw a pair of jeans half covered by a big hairy dog. Then Huck's face peered around the fur and Olivia felt her agitation subside.

"Tell Evan we're ready to trade – me and the dog for the kids."

"No, son. She's not here yet."

"She's not coming, is she?"

"She is, son, but there's been turbulence, so she's been delayed but we have got your dog."

"Let me see!"

The negotiator sent a camera phone image.

"What's wrong with Barney's leg?"

"He got hurt in the scuffle to catch him. He can't walk that's why we're carrying him," Olivia murmured, which the negotiator relayed. "The dog will have to be carried in."

"I'm not dumb. You're going to send a cop in with Barney!"

"No, the civilian who caught him can bring him in, with the First Lady."

"She still wants to trade places?"

The cops look at Olivia and she firmed her chin. "Tell him I'm ready to go in when he's ready."

"Barney comes in first."

Olivia nodded. When the phone call ended, Olivia turned to the SWAT commander. "When you get the signal, let the sprinklers loose."

"What's the signal?"

"I don't know yet.'

* * *

><p>Olivia knocked on the door.<p>

Evan called out, "I'm gonna open the door but don't do anything stupid or Karen gets it."

"Woof!" Barney, who until then had been leaning his big head on Huck's shoulder, sat up and barked. "WOOF!"

The dog sprang from Huck's arms and head-butted the door wide open and loped into the room, his tail wagging as Huck and Tom chased after him.

In a blur of movement, Karen just had time to twist out of Evan's grasp before Barney launched himself at the boy, felling him like a bowling pin. On instant reflex, Huck snatched up the gun that clattered out of Evan's hand, while Tom hauled Karen up in his arms, already on his way out.

"Now!" yelled Olivia, running into the room at a more unwieldy pace, uncaring of the sprinklers on the roof releasing a great soaking shower or the SWAT and FBI teams jostling her as they charged in. She held out her arms to take Karen but Tom hustled both of them out of the room and out into the corridor.

Karen leaned over, holding out her hand and with a laughing gasp, Olivia reached out to grasp it tight as they were hurried towards the exit.

"Wait! What about Suzie and the others?" Karen huffed as they jogged along.

"Huck's got them," said Tom, not slowing down as they heard the blades of a helicopter drawing near.

* * *

><p>"Hey!" Evan yelled, managing to shove Barney aside.<p>

"Looking for this?" Huck asked holding up his 3D gun.

"Hey! Give me that! It's mine!" He lunged for it losing his balance and going down splat on his face.

"How you doin' down there?" the SWAT commander grinned.

The rest of his SWAT team gathered around, pointing their guns at Evan while the FBI herded the other kids out of the room sans the makeshift explosives.

Evan stared at the ring of guns barrels in his face, then flopped his head back on the floor and groaned.

"Was that my Mom arriving in the chopper?"

"No son, that's the President of the United States. He's here to collect his wife and kid."

* * *

><p>When Marine One landed on the patch of green between a quadrant of buildings, Fitz would, uder other circumstances, have appreciated the precision of the landing but now he waited impatiently for the Marines to dispense with protocol and open the 'damned door!'<p>

"Sir," one of the agents interrupted. "Hold on a moment, they're safe; Mermaid and Sweetpea are safe. Tom's escorting them out."

* * *

><p>Keeping pace beside Tom, Olivia ran as fast as she could across the grass towards the waiting helicopter, still holding onto Karen with one hand while clutching her stomach with the other.<p>

Tom placed a protective hand over her head while bending low with Karen in his arms as they ran towards the opening door of the chopper.

Then Olivia felt strong familiar arms grab her and Karen out of Tom's arms, crushing them both to a broad chest where Olivia could hear a heart beat a rapid tattoo.

Fitz.

She breathed in his scent, closing her eyes, smiling at the kisses raining down on their faces, glad that Fitz was holding them as if he'd never let go.

* * *

><p>AN: Helloooo! I promised a couple of my readers that I would upload this a few days ago – but you wouldn't believe the rewrites this chapter has gone through. I still want to rewrite but that would be never-ending so here's what it is, as is.

Sorry for not updating for _ages_. I really needed break because there was truth in the accusation that the story was getting too bogged down in real life politics, and I had strayed from Olitz [and family] focus.

To all my lovely reviewers, I will respond in my next author's note - I don't want to hang onto this any longer in case I never upload it! I'll be stuck forever on Chapter 47!


	48. Unbreakable Bonds

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Fitz opened the bedroom door, pausing at the sight of his wife and daughter asleep in the middle of the bed, their arms curled around each other.<p>

He wanted to crush them close.

Instead after he neared the bed, Fitz stroked a gentle hand over Karen's flyaway curls before staring at Olivia, almost afraid of the fierce wave of love and longing that gripped him.

As he watched, Olivia's lashes fluttered open and she smiled, lifting a hand from Karen's waist to reach out to him.

He gripped it, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I need to shower and change," he said softly.

"Okay." She let him go but his touch lingered on her fingers as he drew back.

Fitz half hoped that Olivia would sneak into the shower with him, but recalling how Karen's arms had been wrapped around Olivia's waist, he wasn't surprised to have the bathroom all to himself. Nor was he surprised to find Olivia wide awake and waiting for him when he returned to the bedroom dressed in a T-shirt and sweats.

He held her gaze as he got under the covers beside Karen, then shifted on the pillows so he was facing Olivia.

"Feeling okay?" he asked softly, lifting a hand to gently tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes." She smiled. "The doctor said we're fine, all three of us."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, silent for a long time, then he said thickly, his eyes tearing, "I could have lost all three of you..."

She covered his hand with hers, gripping it tightly. "You didn't…You won't…"

With a soft groan, he shifted his hand to the back of her head, lifting her up to the kiss he crushed against her mouth.

"Mom…Dad…."

They both froze, breaking off to look at Karen who had awakened.

"Are you going to keep this PG?"

After a brief silence, Fitz grunted a laugh, looking at Olivia, "Are we?"

"Maybe…" Olivia tickled Karen.

"Mom…!" Karen protested laughing, then, "Dad!" when Fitz joined in.

* * *

><p><strong>Presidential Narrative:<strong> _I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to the people of America and our friends around the world for your thoughts and prayers during the near-tragedy that unfolded yesterday. I am deeply grateful that a potential disaster was averted, a feeling that is shared by the parents of my daughter's friends and classmates with whom I have personally touched base…_

**Behind the scenes: **

"Your daughter should be home-schooled! Her presence is a threat to the safety of my child!"

Fitz waited for the strident voice to take a breath before saying calmly, "If you threaten the school board, or start a campaign to harass my kid when she returns to school, I'll make sure your company is out of the bidding for the renovations in Virginia, which are part of my wife's Homeless Shelter project."

Fitz put the phone down gently in the ensuing silence, and dialled another parent…

"Your wife is a loose cannon! I will personally sue your ass and all the asses in your Administration for the crazy stunt she pulled yesterday!"

"Sue me and I'll see you in court for money laundering and tax evasion," Fitz responded.

"I'll sue your ass for defamation!_"_

"For your sake, I hope the twenty-six billion you've stashed in the Cayman Islands is enough to cover your legal bills."

"Wait… you've been _spying_ on _me_?"

"You're speaking to the government."

* * *

><p>"Carlita Medoza will be staying with us a few days. I've asked her over to make sure Karen is okay," Olivia said as they strolled down the corridor towards the Oval Office.<p>

"Good idea," Fitz avoided her gaze. He'd been avoiding her gaze all morning.

"Fitz… about yesterday"

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor and faced her. "Yes…?"

"The cops were only doing their job…"

His face instantly shuttered and he resumed walking. "Got it."

"Fitz," Olivia hurried after him. "Are you sure you don't want me in there with you?"

"Yes." He lengthened his stride, then paused again to face her, his face softening. "It's okay, I got this one."

Just when she thought he would stride off, Fitz surprised Olivia with a kiss that landed on the edge of her mouth but mostly on her cheek.

She stared after him as he strode away and eventually disappeared into his office.

Feeling a touch on her arm, Olivia turned to see Tom at her side. "He's mad at you."

"I know."

"He'll get over it, once he's done yelling at the cops."

* * *

><p><strong>Law enforcement Narrative:<strong> _President Fitzgerald Grant personally thanked the FBI and DC police for their rescue mission at First Daughter Karen Grant's school yesterday. Twenty-five kids were evacuated without incident or injury from a potentially explosive situation_…

**Behind the scenes**

"I want him fired!"

"Mr President," the police chief replied soothing on the secure phone line, "As I was saying the cop has been disciplined. He's a good cop, a man with twenty years solid experience under his belt. He just made a rash judgement in the heat of the moment."

"He pulled a gun on my wife! I want him out of the force! Sacked! Fired! Gone! This is not up for negotiation!"

"Mr President—!"

Fitz opened the file that Tom handed him, and cut the chief off. "If you don't fire him, I'll make sure the cop's Facebook rants about my wife will be made public."

Fitz paused, listening to the silence tick by, before adding, "Along with the statement we got from his wife that you personally encouraged her not to file an official complaint after he put her in hospital with a broken jaw, three broken ribs and a burn on her arm."

Minutes later, Fitz ended the call and looked at Tom. "He'll be fired."

Tom responded with a faint smile.

* * *

><p>"Mom, Jerry says we don't have to go back to school. Ever." Karen met Olivia at the top of the stairs.<p>

"Not true," Olivia said firmly, placing her arm around Karen's shoulders and dropping a kiss on top of her head. "Where is he?"

"In his room, getting rid of his books and stuff." Karen sighed, resting her cheek on Olivia's arm. "Do I have to tell him he's wrong?"

"No," Olivia chuckled. "I'll break the bad news to him."

"I'll be in my room with Poppy and her babies. Yell if you need my help."

That made Olivia smile as she headed towards Jerry's bedroom.

"Jerry, what are you doing?" She asked from the open doorway, seeing him toss several items into a bio-degradable trash bag.

"Getting rid of junk, Mom."

"Jerry, those textbooks are not junk. You need them for school."

"Mom, school's not safe. Karen almost died yesterday. You'd think we're living in Pakistan or Nigeria, except over there, kids get shot or kidnapped by _militants_," Jerry said with emphasis, "Over here, we get shot at by _other kids_. So for my own safety, Mom, I need to stay away from places where I'll become a target." He tossed more books into the bag.

"Jerry," Olivia at down on his bed. "You're going to school when it re-opens. Your dad is making sure you won't have anything to worry about…"

* * *

><p><strong>Principal's Narrative:<strong> _All students and staff will be on a leave of absence while we assess potential weaknesses in our robust security system. I would like to assure parents and the public that we take the safety of our students very seriously, while they are in our care…_

**Behind the scenes: **

"Mr President, the juniors were doing a mural on the outer wall of the gymnasium. Thirty spray cans didn't seem like that big of a deal," said the Principal, over the phone to Fitz.

"What about the fireworks, did a sackful of fireworks at this time of the year seem normal to you?"

"We don't do bag inspections; there was no way we could have detected that," the Principal bristled.

"Unless they get sniffer dogs," Tom murmured, standing at Fitz's elbow.

When Fitz repeated the instruction, the Principal bristled. "We can't get dogs, some kids are allergic to pet hair."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "I have an aversion to my kids being dead, so I need to see real change at the school before I send either of my kids back there – that includes bag inspections and sniffer dogs."

"Don't forget the metal detectors, sir," Tom prompted.

"Metal detectors?! Mr President, that would be an invasion of privacy! The PTA would shut us down!"

"Kids in inner city schools have metal detectors," Zeke reminded from his perch on the edge of the Resolute Desk. He'd come in during the middle of the conversation and caught up to speed from the scowl on Fitz's face.

Fitz nodded, turning his attention back to the phone. "Let me remind you that inner city public schools have security measures which you and the PTA find offensive. What I find less offensive is that these schools also produce hardly any mass murderers compared to suburban schools," When the Principal suddenly fell silent, he continued strongly. "As President, I'm doing my best to stop weapons getting into the hands of minors. As Principal, you need to make sure the kids are there to learn, not kill."

After the call ended, Fitz looked from Zeke to Tom. "How the fuck did that kid take a gun to school?"

"It's a plastic gun, sir. It was downloaded off the internet and printed on a 3D printer."

"Didn't we get the manufacturer to take those instructions down? It's illegal to make a gun that bypasses a metal detector under the Undetectable Firearms Act."

"The State Department did order US companies to take down their instructions, but the information is still available on file-sharing sites here and overseas," Zeke grimaced, watching Fitz rub a weary hand over his face.

"There's no end to this, is there?"

* * *

><p>"I'm so glad, you're here," Oliva whispered, hugging Carlita Mendoza in the Cross Hall of the White House.<p>

Carlita drew back, bringing her hands up to cup Olivia's face. "You look well and happy. Is this how you really feel?"

Olivia gave a soft laugh. "Are you asking as my friend or as a psychologist?"

"Both," Carlita smiled, then paused looking over Olivia's shoulder.

The White House aide waiting behind them said diffidently to Olivia, "Ma'am, the President would like to have a word with Ms Mendoza when it's convenient."

Carlita exchanged a look with Olivia, who gave a slight nod. Then Carlita said, "Tell the President I am on my way."

* * *

><p><strong>Mainstream Media Narrative<strong>: _Should Evan Wilson, 16, be charged as an adult for trying to win Karen Grant's heart in the most bone-headed way imaginable? It's a modern day Romeo and Juliet,_ _I mean when you think about it, it's rather cute…_

**Behind the Scenes:**

"That kid is 16, Karen is barely nine. This should be classed as statutory rape," Fitz scowled.

"Mr President, the boy didn't have sexual contact with Karen," said Carlita. "Some in the media are saying the age gap would not be so outrageous if they were both adults. They are saying…" She paused briefly before continuing, "…the age difference between you and Olivia is greater than this boy and your daughter."

"I did not hold Olivia hostage and threaten to kill her with explosives so we could spend eternity together!"

"Of course not, Mr President—"

"Fitz."

She smiled, "Fitz, this is what you must focus on – his actions, not his age. They would be unsuitable for any age. If the kid's mother agrees, I can speak to the boy in my professional capacity, and see if he has pathological tendencies, which you can verify with other independent experts who are not close to your family."

The grim lines on his faded as Fitz said softly, "The kid's in police custody, I'll get the Attorney General will authorise your access." Fitz paused, rubbing a finger across his mouth, his gaze drifting over to the bust of Lincoln, then refocusing on Carlita, he said softly, "I have a favour to ask."

Carlita waited in silence.

"I need you to speak to Olivia, about her tendency to rush headlong into danger."

Carlita smiled. "You think I'm a miracle worker? I can wave my magic wand and Olivia will be transformed into a woman that she is not?"

Fitz sat back, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't want Olivia to change, I just want her to be safe."

"Mr President…Fitz, 'rushing into danger' as you put it, is part of who Olivia is – she did not flinch when confronting the dictator ex-husband I married. She did not flinch when threatening mobsters, murderers or kidnappers just like she didn't hesitate to rescue Karen when she was in trouble."

"I love that about her, Carlita, but I also love her too much to lose her."

"I understand, but Olivia is who she is."

Fitz released a deep sigh, dropping his arms from his chest. "So you suggest locking my wife in the Executive Residence?" he said, with a wry smile

Carlita laughed. "I would like to see you try."

* * *

><p>Olivia sat at her desk, her hand resting on her chin, reading her emails.<p>

It was quiet since Fitz had ordered her chief of staff to clear her schedule and then banned her from her official duties at the Oval Office that day.

An email caught her attention, prompting her to lean closer towards the computer screen: James had sent her an email.

Olivia read the email, then read it again, then reached for the phone, asking her assistant to put through a call to Denya.

* * *

><p><strong>Social Media Narrative<strong>_**:**_

…_They'll find any excuse for a white killer…its drugs, an unhappy childhood, bullying at school, whatever. It's never about them being wrong, evil and not sorry for what they did…_

…_Yeah, now they're blaming the Gaming Industry for this Evan kid, like they did for Norwegian mass shooter Anders Breivik. They said he played __World of Warcraft__ and __Call of Duty__ like 7-8 hours a day before he shot 77 people. I play games all day, and you see me going around shooting kids for no reason? _

…_Same thing when that white Sandy Hook killer Adam Lanza shot those 20 kids, everyone especially NRA, were making out he confused kids in a classroom with targets in __Call of Duty._

…_This is NOT ABOUT RACE! The Washington Navy Yard gunman Aaron Alexis played Call of Duty for 16 hours. His friends said that's what turned him into a killer… _

…_Listen, Ms Uninvited, you see black folk making a hero out of that guy? No, you don't! But a WHITE kid pulls a gun on the President's daughter and WHITE people are talking about him like he's effin Orlando Bloom. They are sending care packages and love letters to this Domestic Terrorist, who is still ALIVE while a BLACK kid, who did nothing but walk home from the store, is dead. D.E.A.D!.. _

**Behind the scenes:**

**Fitz vs Jerry**

"Dad, you need to do something."

"Jerry, I can't help the story the media is spinning about this kid running amok with a gun and explosives just because he had a crush on Karen."

"Dad, the guy was a sicko who stalked Kaz and then tried to turn her into worm food. He's two years older than me, Dad, he should know better."

"I'm with you on this one."

"So are you going to sign an executive order to bring back the Death Penalty in DC?"

"Jerry, I'm against capital punishment."

"But you're not against dropping bombs in Africa."

"Jerry."

"Dad, they'll make a movie out of this kid being a hero and shit. You need to punish him; make him pay for what he did to Karen, Mom and all the kids in Karen's class. Suzie's going to need more therapy after this."

"I get where you're coming from but life isn't black and white, Jer."

"Tell that to the dead kid in Faraway County. Bet his parents are wondering why a white kid – who terrorises a bunch of 9-year old kids with explosives and a DIY gun, gets detention while they're son is dead just because he's black."

[Silence]

"Dad, I get detention for texting Pete during class."

"You _get_ detention. Is this an ongoing thing?"

"Focus, Dad…"

**Fitz vs Rowan**

"It is a matter of justice, Fitzgerald. People are talking about his dog, his workaholic parents, his crush on Karen, No one's talking about his failing grades, his suspensions for trying to blow up the chemistry lab or downloading porn in the school library. He's a delinquent who's never received adequate punishment."

"What do you recommend – death by lethal injection, electric chair or firing squad?"

"Fitzgerald, this is not a laughing matter. We cannot have another white kid get off with what is essentially an act of terrorism."

"_White_ kid?"

"Name me one black kid who held a class hostage at gunpoint with explosives as a backup. I'll wait."

"Rowan, I am aware of the injustices that exist in the system—"

"Being aware of injustice and doing something about it are two different beasts, Fitzgerald. You used your influence to sack the cop who nearly shot my daughter. You need to bring that same anger to bear on this kid. You need to make sure he does not get off with a slap on the wrist. You cannot have kids going around thinking they can shoot or bomb people at will for whatever asinine reason they choose."

"The kid who shot Mellie has made remarkable progress in a few short months."

"That kid killed the woman who took a hit out on his father. That was vigilantism; this is entitlement. Evan wanted Karen and he decided to take her against her will. He should not be rewarded for his actions."

[Silence]

"Fitzgerald, it takes a village to raise a kid, it's time this village said 'no' to this kind of behaviour because it is clear that Evan's parents have failed to instil respect for the law in their son, that you have instilled in Jerry."

"Did you say _Jerry_?"

"He hasn't threatened another world leader after the North Korean fiasco. That's an improvement."

"Ye-es…"

* * *

><p>"Something stinks," Quinn said.<p>

Abby instantly looked at Huck. He scowled. "I showered today."

Quinn grimaced impatiently. "Not Huck, I mean what went down at the school yesterday. Something seemed off."

"I saw the SWAT commander take the kid's mother aside for a quiet word before she spoke to the media outside the school," Huck muttered, turning his attention back to his computer. Then feeling the stares drilling into the back of his head, he glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"What else did you see?"

"That you've been keeping from us?"

"Nothing."

The two women exchanged a glance before jumping out of their seats at the conference table, and rushing over to see what Huck was doing on his laptop.

"What's that?"

"A media invite for the Wilsons' press conference this afternoon…"

* * *

><p>"There's something going on that ain't right." Zeke muttered, as he and Oscar sat down to breakfast. "This kid had a state-of-the-art 3D printer that wasn't cheap. Even if the kid stole the Mom's credit card, like she claims, wouldn't a $10,000 purchase make her suspicious?"<p>

"Especially if the kid was shooting up the basement walls, testing the damned thing. Rich people," Oscar shook his head, as he picked up his coffee cup.

Zeke put down his fork of cheddar cheese grits. "If he was practising for a massacre, why didn't he go through with it?"

"The trigger was jammed."

"Intentionally?"

"Sure looked that way to the lab techs in forensics."

* * *

><p>"Fitz is worried about you," Carlita murmured to Olivia as they took baby steps along a pathway on the South Lawn, holding hands with Teddy.<p>

"I know," Olivia sighed. "We haven't talked. He's avoiding me."

"He's trying to get his emotions under control. Men like to think they're good at rational conversations."

Olivia smiled, watching Teddy stamping his feet as he walked. Then glanced up ahead at Karen pushing a pram with Poppy and her puppies, while Jerry ran along the grass throwing a ball for the other dogs to catch.

"What did Karen say when she spoke to you?"

"Querida, you know I exercise confidentiality even for clients who are not aware they are my clients, but I will say that she spoke a great deal about how you came charging into the school to save her. I think that more than anything made her realise that you love her as you would your own child."

Olivia's brow furrowed in concern. "But I thought she knew that already. I adopted her because I wanted her to know that."

"Querida, you know children need more proof than a piece of paper."

Again they walked in silence for a while, until Olivia murmured, "James emailed me to make sure Karen and I are okay. He said Cyrus is in hospital with malaria." When Carlita didn't respond, Olivia added, "Cyrus isn't trying to get well, Carlita. Politics is his lifeblood. I've been thinking of asking him to return to the White House."

Carlita stopped walking. "Dios! Olivia, that man is a snake!"

Olivia stroked a hand over Teddy's temper-tantrum brewing face at the sudden stop, murmuring, "He's a snake known to us. You know that cliché better the devil you know."

"Ah, yes, because there are very few angels in politics." Carlita was interrupted by Jerry jogging towards them.

"Mom, I'll take the little dude. He needs a change of pace."

"What are you saying, Jerry?" Olivia gave a mock frown, watching Jerry crouch down so Teddy could climb onto his back.

"Nothing, Mom." Jerry stood, leaning over to smack a loud, sweaty kiss on Olivia's cheek before jogging away with Teddy, who was chortling away, clearly enjoying his piggy back ride.

"Jerry is a very thoughtful boy. I like that," Carlita murmured as she tucked Olivia's hand through her arm. "Now tell me about your loco idea of having Cyrus return. You know when you told me what Cyrus had done, I was surprised by your husband's generosity; Cyrus was banished, not tortured and shot, which is what my ex-husband would have ordered."

"Fitz is not like that."

"Yes, Fitz loves you, Olivia, and you want him to work again with a man he hates. This is risky even for a marriage as strong as yours. I cannot advise you to keep testing the bond you share, to see how far he will let you go before it is broken forever."

"What if in my gut I know it's right that Cyrus returns?"

"You are pregnant. It could be gas."

"It doesn't feel like gas."

Carlita shook her head, knowing Olivia's stubbornness would not let this one go. "Olivia…"

"I miss James and Ella."

Carlita muttered under her breath.

* * *

><p>When Olivia returned from their walk, she headed for the Oval Office, closing the door as Fitz slowly turned from the windows overlooking the Rose Garden to face her.<p>

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he returned solemnly.

He watched as she walked right up and slid her arms around him, with her baby bump resting against his belly.

"You've been distant since… yesterday."

"I'm trying to cope with the fact, my wife, the most important person in my life, is intent on making me lose my mind." Then he released a deep sigh. "But I know you did it for Karen."

"She was incredibly brave, Fitz."

"Like you." He gathered her into a hug. "I don't know how I'm going to survive with two scary women in the family."

"Maybe you'll have three…" she mumbled into his shoulder.

He drew back. "Are we having a girl?"

"I don't know."

He took her hand, sat down behind the desk and drew her onto his lap. "Do you feel like we're having a girl?"

"I don't know."

"What does your gut say?" He stroked his hand over her belly.

"My gut says that I should take it easy."

Fitz gave a grunt of laughter, kissing her mouth softly. "I like this kid." He kissed her again. "Do you want skip the Veterans' Benefit tonight? I can take Jerry and Rowan. That'll give you more time to spend with Carlita [kiss] Karen [kiss] and Felicia."

"You are such a sweetie…" She chuckled softly. "To take my Dad with you."

Grinning, Fitz nudged her closer for another kiss. "What else is our little madam telling Mommy?"

She eyed his lazy smile. "Have you stopped being mad at me?"

"I'm thinking about it…" He kissed her some more.

"What if I told you [kiss] we should [kiss] ask Cyrus back?"

He stilled.

"Fitz…"

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Fitz asked carefully, "Cyrus? Did you say _Cyrus_?"

Olivia had enough time for half a nod before she found herself on her feet with Fitz glaring down at her from his full height. "_Cyrus?_!"

"Fitz…!"

"Don't, Olivia, just don't!" He stepped around her and strode to the door, slamming it on his way out. The door opened a minute later, and Fitz strode back in. "This is my office! You need to leave!"

Seeing Lauren grab her coffee mug and hurry away from her desk, Olivia firmed her chin. "I'm not leaving."

The door slammed shut again but this time Fitz did not return.

* * *

><p>"Man, even with one eye blind and a bad leg, I am beating your ass!" Zeke grinned as he dribbled the ball around Fitz on the White House basketball court.<p>

"Give me that!" Fitz tried to grab the ball but Zeke evaded him with a grin, balancing on one foot to throw the ball across the court and score with ease.

"Bastard!" Fitz gave a reluctant grin.

"Now, now, enough of that sweet-talk. What'll Olivia…" Zeke stopped, making a production of looking around. "Where is Olivia?

"Dunno." Fitz grabbed the ball and scored a slam dunk.

"You guys okay?" Zeke persisted as Fitz turned with a grin, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Yeah," Fitz muttered, his grin disappearing.

"I knew there was no truth to that rumour you and the missus were having a fight over Cyrus."

"She wants him back."

"_Olivia_ wants him back?" Zeke did a double take as they fell into step, heading for the bench which had their towels, water bottles, watches and phones. "Man, I didn't think she'd be the one to change her mind, not after she wanted to gut him with her bare hands for what he did to you." Ignoring the sharp look Fitz turned on him, Zeke continued smoothly, "And while we're talking about white trash thugs, there's something you need to know about what went down yesterday at the school. The kid's gun was sabotaged."

"I'm still waiting for a copy of the forensic report."

"You'll have a long wait. The gun's disappeared from the Evidence Room and the last person to check it out was the guy in charge of the SWAT team."

Fitz stared at Zeke, then automatically picked up his phone to call Olivia. Until he remembered their fight…

* * *

><p>Olivia stared at the missed call, willing the phone to ring again. It did almost immediately, and Olivia grabbed it.<p>

"Fitz—"

"Olivia—"

"Abby," Olivia sighed.

There was a pause, then Abby drawled, "Do I smell trouble in paradise?"

"No." Olivia said quickly, too quickly.

"Right. Getting back to business, that freak's mother was hired by the SWAT commander, he's one of her clients."

"Freak— _Evan's _mother?!"

Quinn came on the line, "We managed to switch the woman's laptop at the media conference she had at her office."

"It was just an exercise in self-promotion. She didn't say anything to defend her son." Abby sniffed in the background.

Ignoring her, Quinn said, "Huck found a motherload of evidence: emails, financial statements—"

Huck took over. "She was paid a $50,000 consultation fee from an account in the name of the kid who died in Faraway County."

"_What_?!"

"We traced the account back to a slush fund set up by the local police union," Huck said grimly.

"You're gonna love this!," Abby crowed, "The woman thinks she's a crisis manager!"

"She specialises in law enforcement clean-ups," said Huck before Quinn added,

"She calls it improving community relations."

* * *

><p>When Fitz returned from golf, he found Olivia seated on the bed, rubbing her belly.<p>

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I was thinking."

His gaze strayed from her face down over her belly to her bare toes, and back up to meet her gaze. "What were you thinking about?"

"Cyrus—"

"Don't."

"Fitz!" She yelled after his retreating back.

"I don't want to hear it." He headed for the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he walked.

She followed, doing exactly the same, stepping into the shower right after him.

Fitz angled a look over his shoulder, then turned his back on her completely to turn on the taps.

Olivia rolled her eyes, walking around to face him. "Cyrus has Malaria and he's not making a quick recovery. James is scared that he's lost his will to live."

He eyed her grimly, then reached for the body soap. "I'll send flowers."

"But—"

"I don't want him back."

Olivia glared at his impassive face, then snatched the soap bottle from his hands. "You are so stubborn," she muttered, working up a lather between her hands.

"You want Cyrus back after everything he's done? First he tried to keep us apart, then he tried to destroy everything we built."

He made a mistake."

"He made a choice."

"People make wrong choices."

His gaze locked with hers, but he didn't say a word, not even when her hands began working their way over his body. They both pretended his body wasn't reacting strongly to her presence.

After a while, Olivia said conversationally, "It looks like the kidnapping was a set-up."

"What…?"

Olivia repeated the information she'd received from OPA, sliding her hands lower, and lower still. "I don't know what we should do. If we expose this, we'll have the cops after us, and not even Tom and Zeke will be able to protect us from the biggest street gang in America."

Fitz groaned softly, his gaze hot and heavy on hers.

"…Fitz?"

She'd barely got his name out before his mouth came crashing down on hers.

* * *

><p>Olivia was applying moisturiser on her skin, wearing only a towel on her head, when she felt Fitz come up behind, sliding his hands over her stomach, down between her thighs.<p>

"I didn't shave," he whispered against her cheek.

"I'll recover." She stroked her fingers over his muscled arms.

He kissed her cheek gently. "Livvie…"

She angled her face, feeling his lips catch and cling to hers.

Then as she gazed at him adoringly, he whispered, "I love you. I love you enough to sacrifice anything for you. All I'm asking is for you to let go of Cyrus—"

The adoration vanished to be replaced by a scorching glare as Olivia pushed out of his arms. "That's all you want me to do?"

"That and to stop charging into danger!" he called after her, as she tossed away the towel on her head and marched out of the bathroom.

He watched her naked butt disappear before he roused himself to follow her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, into the dressing room.

"What's wrong with what I just said?" he asked as she noisily swept hangers aside on a clothing rail. "I just want to keep you safe."

She turned to glare at him. "And tell me who I should be friends with!"

"Oh, so now you and Cyrus are friends?"

"No, but you don't get to tell me who I can have as my enemies either!"

Olivia grabbed a dress and pulled it over her head, then struggled to do up the zip. She was about to demand his help, when Fitz gently moved her hands aside to slide his arms inside the opening and draw her back against him.

"Let me go."

"No," he whispered, gently stroking her belly. "I won't let you go."

"Cyrus…"

"I don't want to talk about Cyrus." He kissed his way down to her neck.

She groaned softly, her lashes fluttering closed. "We're in the middle of a fight."

"I don't want to fight."

"You have to get dressed for the Benefit."

"I can take a moment to hold my precious little baggage of a wife."

"Baggage?"

"Bundle of trouble." He bit her neck gently, eliciting a soft moan. "Do you have to fight me each time I try to protect you?"

"Yes…"

He grunted a laugh.

"…Litigation…"

"…What?"

"Litigation, it's the only way to handle this situation with Evan."

Fitz withdrew his hands from inside her dress and zipped her up. Then walked over to his side of the closet.

Olivia padded over in her bare feet to pick out a shirt as he pulled on underwear. "The Wilsons are blaming the gaming industry for their son's actions and we need a distraction from the police looking like heroes in their very own simulated hostage situation. We should sue the Wilsons for bad parenting."

Fitz gave a wry smile. "You think a lot like your father."

"Okay, then let's sue the gaming industry."

"People have been trying to hold the gaming industry accountable for decades. Jack Thompson ruined his legal career going after the makers of Grand Theft Auto, among other ill-advised lawsuits."

She helped him into the shirt, pulled the ends together and started to button up the front. "We're not going to hold them accountable for murder, we're going to hold them accountable for sexism. That won't be too much of a stretch after Anita Sarkeesian's harassment. She even had to cancel a public speaking engagement last year after she received an anonymous threat that there would be a mass shooting at the event."

He kissed each corner of her mouth. "Let's go over it in the morning."

"We could consider our options tonight."

"I have other plans."

"Oh?"

His mouth spread in a slow smile as he cupped her face, lifting her mouth towards his kiss.

* * *

><p>There was a knock on the door "Sir, the car is waiting."<p>

Fitz and Olivia broke apart from a particularly torrid kiss, and he stared at her dazedly.

She smiled, straightening his bowtie, and smoothing down his jacket, but when she would have stepped back, he gathered her into a hug.

"I'm not in a fit state to leave this room and walk down two flights of stairs with your father and my son."

Olivia's laugh was muffled against his chest. "Not my fault."

"Liar." He drew back, taking in her smile, before trying to take her mouth for another kiss but she evaded him with a soft laugh, tugging him towards the door. "The veterans will be disappointed, and the girls will finish all the popcorn without me."

"I'm second to popcorn?"

Olivia squeezed his butt as they passed out the door. "You're dessert."

"I'm still a food group."

"Does that idea help you walk down the stairs okay?"

"Cheeky…" he grinned.

* * *

><p>"So you told Fitz about Cyrus." Carlita took the giant bucket of popcorn from Olivia.<p>

"Uh-huh," Olivia nodded, popping a handful of popped corn into her mouth, her gaze on the cartoon being screened on the White House family theatre

"Is he okay with it?"

"I don't think so."

"Mom, you're talking," Karen grumbled.

"Sor-ry!" Olivia snaked her arm around Karen's shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Is this an accurate depiction of Lap people?" Felicia asked sceptically, from her seat on Karen's left. Olivia rolled her eyes at Carlita before grabbing another handful of popcorn from the bucket.

* * *

><p>Whistling softly, Fitz entered the bedroom and smiled at the sight of Olivia reading in bed, wearing one of his sweatshirts.<p>

"Someone's happy… and slightly buzzed," she murmured, putting the file of paperwork aside and sitting up as he leaned over to kiss her. "How much did you have to drink?"

"A few glasses of champagne." He sat on the edge of the bed, close to her.

"A few?"

"Very few," he confirmed with a saintly expression, kissing her again.

"How much did Jerry have to drink?"

"One beer." He grazed a biting kiss on her lips as his hands crept under the sweatshirt.

"Fitz!" Olivia drew back, frowning.

"It's okay, he was under adult supervision." Fitz captured her mouth in another kiss, but she broke off to demand,

"Yours?"

"Rowan's." More kisses followed.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, feeling slightly woozy after the onslaught.

"I'm trying to get you in the mood," he complained with a pout.

"I'm always in the mood." She sighed, sliding her arms around his neck.

"I noticed," Fitz chuckled, then paused warily when she drew back with a frown.

"What are you saying?"

"I love you." He kissed her. When her frown remained, he kissed her again, whispering, "I love you from the top of your scary frowns to the tips of your bare toes that drive me wild. In fact," murmured, his face pressed against hers. "I love every fierce, gorgeous pregnant inch of you."

"Nice save," Olivia gave a faint smile.

"You made me work for it," he muttered against her cheek. "But it's all worth it in the end."

His hands tugging at her sweatshirt, tugging it free to toss it over his shoulder. Then his arms gently eased her back against the pillows

"Take your clothes off," Olivia murmured, as he smiled down at her.

"You want me to take my clothes off?" he teased.

She nodded with a half-smile.

"All of them?"

She nodded again.

"Is this negotiable? Can I leave on a sock?"

"A sock? Isn't it too late to leave a _sock _on?" She bumped her knee against his side.

He gusted a laugh, leaning over to kiss her mouth. "Naughty girl."

"Mm…" she snuffled a laugh, taking a quick dip into his mouth with her tongue as her hands pulled restlessly at his shirt. "You're taking way too long to get naked…"

"I forgot to brush my teeth."

"Fitz!"

He chuckled huskily, standing to take off the remainder of his clothes.

Watching him, Olivia stroked her hand over her belly thoughtfully. "Did you and Mellie have a lot of pregnant sex, you know, in the beginning?"

"Mellie?" Fitz stopped in the act of dropping his shorts. "_Mellie?!_"

"Mellie, the woman you were married for over two decades," Olivia murmured, stretching out a leg to tug his shorts off with her nimble toes, watching them drop to the floor. Then her gaze flew up to meet his, catching an odd expression.

"Fitz…?"

He sat down, gathering her in his arms. "Why are we having a conversation about Mellie?"

"You are avoiding the question."

Fitz looked at her solemnly. "Olivia, you better than anyone know that I was her sidepiece in wedlock." He nuzzled her nose, making her smile. "Besides, you and I don't have sex."

That made her chuckle. "So the little bump between us is a result of an immaculate conception, Presidential style?"

"We make love, Livvie. Comparing what's between us to what I had with Mellie would be like…" he paused stumped for words.

"Like comparing a puddle to the ocean?"

"Or a speck of sand to the universe."

"The secrets of the universe."

They shared a gentle laugh, then a not so gentle kiss before he drew back to ask huskily, "So what brought this on?"

"Something Carlita said this morning. She wanted me to stop pushing you, to see how far you'll let me go before we break…" She dropped her gaze to his chin. "I didn't think that could happen until that moment when you walked out on me this morning and never came back."

Fitz kissed her forehead. "You made me mad."

Olivia's frown returned "You ordered me out of your office."

"You keep trying to shave years off my life, Olivia. It's not like I have a lot of those to waste. I'm older than you, remember?"

"So you want to take a raincheck?"

"A raincheck?"

"Until we get a prescription to enhance your geriatric libido."

He stared solemnly at her cheeky smile, until she started to laugh, warning "Fitz…Fitz. I have our baby on board." She grabbed his tickle-monster hands. "And you know you're the sexiest man alive. I've seen your fan mail before Tom's had a chance to delete them."

"Jealous?"

"Very."

She laughed at his satisfied grin, and rested her cheek against his, her eyes drifting closed as his hands escaped her grasp to begin to rubbing her back.

Eventually he murmured into the silence, "Is Cyrus really sick?"

"Yes…" she breathed, then drew back slowly to meet his gaze. "I spoke to the doctors in Denya to make sure Cyrus wasn't playing us."

As he studied her face in silence, she added softly, "James is really worried, Fitz. He says Cyrus has given up fighting; he thinks Cyrus needs a sign that we care."

Fitz released a deep sigh. "I'll have him flown to a Military hospital for treatment. But that's all."

"Okay."

He gave a soft grunt of laughter. Then murmured, "I had a long discussion with your father tonight. He wants Evan's mother to litigate the gamers. He thinks she should take the flack for abandoning her responsibilities as a parent."

"I'm not sure he's in a position to take the moral high ground."

"Livvie, it's along the lines of where you were going."

She looked unconvinced. "How will we get the mother to litigate the gamers?"

"By sending her the bill for the law enforcement operation. Her son violated several safety codes in the District of Columbia and he's under her supervision. We'll reconsider collecting on those costs if she initiates the lawsuit." He kissed her until she smiled.

"Sneaky." She chuckled, smoothing her hands over his back and up into his hair.

His gaze grew heated as it drifted down to her mouth. "Now that we've got foreplay out of the way, can we get down to business?"

"What kind of business?"

"Scissors?"

"Paper, rock?" she teased, snuffling a laugh until he gave a soft growl and caught her mouth for a hot little kiss.

* * *

><p>AN: 84 years again, Kaiana! ;) And Fostes00 – it was uni that kept me away - after 5 weekly tests, 3 major assignments. 3 minor ones and two class presentations – I wrote this chapter with my one remaining brain cell that survived exhaustion and stress. I was even thinking assignments during my 'day job' (normally I think about this story!) BTW, after this chapter I will need to go AWOL again until after Jun 17 (end of exams).

My dear 'missing in action' guest, don't worry (as Clio1792 guessed!) I cannot abandon politics – I'm far too interested in it!

I know some of you want to read a purely fictional story – but I can't write about a White House couple and leave out politics because as one of my other guests mentioned it'll be too treacly! (I have a tendency to drift into mush – result of spending at least 10 years writing unsuccessful Harlequin submissions – I haven't recovered from the trauma.)

Jollybelucky, about the Truth and Reconciliation commission (you mentioned in a review a couple of chapters ago), I had to abandon that idea (I think in a Rowan-Fitz conversation) because the perpetrators of racial injustice in the US are the majority and still in power. Also as Fitz would probably have to get approval from Congress – I didn't think it would be feasible, especially as Fitz does not have the support of either party as an independent - in this story!

BTW, again I have to say that I have some wonderful people reading this story– your reviews help me pick up the pieces each time I hit a brick wall. I am also deeply grateful to this community of amazing fanfiction writers, who seem to intuitively know when I'm ready to bin my laptop and move to Timbuctoo.

And before I forget: Rowan. A few people have mentioned that having him in the White House is odd – I guess this is where my own cultural background comes in – I have grown up with at least 3 generations in the same house, so to me it is 'odd' to live any other way! I wouldn't be who I am and the writer I am without my grandfather's influence, so I think Jerry would benefit from Rowan's influence too. BTW, Michelle Obama's mother lives at the White House. (A Google search will confirm this).

Just a reminder: Carlita Mendoza was first introduced in Presidential Divorce – Chapter Five (Reality Check)


	49. Hidden Meanings

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>"Bad dream?" Fitz mumbled, trailing a hand over her hip as Olivia slipped out of his arms.<p>

"Bub's restless," she murmured. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to watch some TV."

Fitz rolled away to turn on the bedside lamp, watching as Olivia pulled on a robe. He smiled when she admonished him to go back to sleep, and watched as she padded out of the room, waiting until the door closed to turn off the light and bury his face back in the pillow.

A minute later he flopped on his back. Several minutes after that, he lay staring at the ceiling, with the realisation that sleep had slipped from his grasp and wasn't returning any time soon.

Sighing, he turned on the light again and pushed back the covers. Quietly making his way into the living room, he saw Olivia was stretched on the couch, flicking through channels with the remote in one hand, while rubbing her stomach soothingly with the other.

Fitz hunkered down behind the arm rest of the couch, and kissed her cheek.

Olivia gasped, then scolded, "You scared me."

He leaned over and gave her a deeper kiss on the mouth.

"Having fun out here?" he asked huskily when her lashes fluttered open.

"Heaps."

He grinned. "Come back to bed, I can't sleep either. We can talk."

"Talk?" she asked as he helped her off the couch.

"Talk." He nodded, sliding his arm around her waist. "Or I can sing."

"Sing?"

"I thought you liked my singing."

"You sing at the top of your voice when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Fitz said, looking pained. "And I was going to sing a lullaby."

"A lullaby?" Olivia smiled, delighted.

"Yes," he confirmed solemnly, as he untied her robe and slipped it off her shoulders before helping her into bed. "Unless you don't want to hear it."

She laughed softly, lifting her arms until he bent low enough for her to place her hands to his face and give him a kiss. "I want to hear your lullaby."

He waited until she was comfortable, before settling down next to her. Resting his head on her shoulder, he placed his hand on her stomach, murmuring, "This is one of my mother's favourite lullabies. She'd sing it to me when I was sick or upset as a kid."

Olivia smiled, combing her fingers lightly through his curls, as he began to sing '_All the Pretty Little Horses',_ not realising that she had stilled beside him.

She waited until he finished, letting a small silence develop before saying softly, "That's a slave song about a woman who was unable to take of her own child."

Fitz drew back slowly.

"It's true," Olivia insisted. "A slave is singing this to the master's child, knowing her own child is out in the fields getting his eyes pecked out by buzzards, and she can't do anything to save him."

"This song had butterflies not buzzards."

"Buzzards were in the original version."

"I won't sing it again." He shifted to his side of the bed, bunching the pillows behind his head.

"I didn't say you shouldn't sing it again." Olivia looked at Fitz but he avoided her gaze. "You sang it beautifully."

He grunted, turning his back on her.

Olivia stared at his rigid back, then lumbered across the bed to get as close to him as she could, sliding her arm around his middle and kissing his ear. "I mean it, Fitz, you sang it beautifully. And it was nice with the butterflies."

"Olivia, I need to be able to sing a lullaby without getting a history lesson in return."

There was a silence, then Olivia straightened, removing his hand from around him. "These history lessons are inconvenient for you? Is that what you're saying? My ancestors were enslaved, brutalised, murdered. They were sold like cattle and shot like vermin. And it's still happening today. But you don't want to hear it because it makes you uncomfortable? Fine, I got it. The President of the United States only wants to talk about Pearl Harbour, Vietnam and 9/11, slavery is off the table." Olivia spared him one last glare before scrambling off the bed, and marching out of the room, shutting the door with a firm click behind her.

Fitz flopped on the pillows, counted to ten, then gave a soft curse and swept the covers aside to go after Olivia. She was stretched out on the couch again, this time without the pretence of watching TV.

He sat on the coffee table. She ignored him. He reached out to touch her cheek and was promptly swatted away.

"Olivia."

"Go away."

He sighed. "I'm sure my mother didn't know the real meaning of that lullaby when she sang it to me."

"I didn't say she did. I was letting _you_ know that the lullaby you were singing to _our_ child has a painful subtext. At least it was painful for me, it was just inconvenient for you."

"Livvie, must it always be this complicated between us?"

"If you wanted simple, you should have had an affair with a woman Big Jerry would have liked."

He was stunned into silence.

She spared him a glance, then said firmly, "Not sorry," before turning away from him.

He left the coffee table to scooch in beside her on the couch, gathering her stiff, noncompliant figure in his arms.

"You fight dirty," he murmured.

She didn't respond.

"How do we get here? All I did was sing a lullaby."

"I'll help you find another Mellie in the morning."

Fitz almost laughed, but thought better of it from her tone. Instead he tightened his arms around her, his hands sliding over her stomach, as he pressed the side of his face against her cheek. "I've got another lullaby."

"I don't want to hear it."

"I'll sing it for Bub, I'm sure she'd like to hear it."

"…She?"

"She. I'm joining the general consensus. You, Carlita and my executive powers of deduction."

Seeing a reluctant smile tug at her lips, he leaned over and kissed her softly. Then raised his head in surprise to glance down at her belly, after they both felt the hefty kick against her side. "Feisty little thing, isn't she? I just know she's going to be a handful just like her mother."

"I don't know what you mean," Olivia murmured.

Fitz husked a laugh, planting another soft kiss on her cheek. "Ready?"

"No."

"Good." And he started singing, '_Somewhere over the Rainbow'._

Because he was watching her face, he saw the glistening of tears on her lashes and stopped. "Livvie… he groaned, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"I'm okay," she muttered, sniffling. "And Bub likes it too, she's settled down." She sniffed again.

He got off the couch, reaching for the tissue box on the lamp table, grabbing several tissues. "Better?" he asked, crouched down in front of her, his hands resting on her knees, as she blew her nose loudly.

She nodded, then with her face buried in tissue, she mumbled, "I don't deserve you."

"That's true." At her sharp look, he grinned. "But then I don't deserve you either, so we're perfect for each other."

* * *

><p><strong>Weather report in DC…<strong>

"_It's another beautiful morning in DC – the sun's out, there's not a cloud in the sky and so far no kids have carried guns to school today…."_

"Kids! Get moving! We have a schedule to keep!"

Felicia and Rowan had planned an educational tour for Karen and Jerry during the 'hiatus' from school. They'd organised for the kids to stay at an Indian Reservation, a Slave plantation and make a stop at Ellis Island on their way home.

There'd been a few snags along the way.

**Karen:** "Why can't I take Poppy with me? The guys at the Carpenters shop downstairs made me a papoose-carrier for her puppies."

**Felicia:** "Do you really want Poppy to take the chance of losing one of her puppies on this trip? It'll be a job making sure we've got all our bags with us. Besides you don't want to offend anyone with a cultural appropriation of a papoose-carrier which is meant for babies, not puppies"

**Jerry**: "Jeez, why can't I take my iPad and laptop with me on this trip? You said it was educational, what's more educational than connecting to the web?"

**Rowan:** "Listen up, young man, you cannot take your iPad, jPad, zPad all of it on this trip because you're going to get a real education. We're going to have real conversations and you're going to use proper words in their logical context, instead of resorting to abbreviated nonsense."

**Jerry:** "LOL, old man."

Once the Marine chopper cleared the South Lawn and became a distant dot in the blue sky, Fitz with his arm around Olivia and the other carrying Teddy, murmured, "Do you hear that noise?"

"What noise?"

"Exactly," Fitz said wryly, prompting a gurgle of laughter from Olivia which made Teddy chortle in delight.

* * *

><p>On a private jet flying to Los Angeles, Sam Reston's contemplation of passing clouds was interrupted by his campaign manager holding out a cell phone, letting him know that Sally Langston was on the line.<p>

"Sally, how is life on the campaign trail this morning?"

"Oh, I can assure you that life is mighty fine out here. I am feeling love, nothing but love from the Bible Belt of America. How are you doing with your aim of winning the homeless vote on Skid Row?"

Reston laughed. "I'll let you know after tonight."

Sally cut to the chase. "Samuel, about that photograph..."

"Sally, I will not be releasing it to the press."

"Surely you cannot agree with the immoral standards set by the President with regard to his own son."

"I will not involve a child in whatever disagreements I have with his father."

On her campaign bus, Sally Langston closed her eyes in a prayer for patience, then clicked the phone shut and handed it to her campaign manager. "You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink." When her manager looked confused, Sally said impatiently, "Samuel Reston will not be releasing the photograph of the President's underage son drinking a beer. You can never trust a liberal to do the right thing."

"So we're going with Plan B?"

Sally sighed. "We're going with Plan B. But aim for maximum impact if you can."

* * *

><p>"I'll take one last question," the Press Secretary told the White House Press.<p>

"_Is it true that President Fitzgerald Grant will be lowering the drinking age under pressure from the Amethyst Initiative and campaigns on ?"_

Heads turned to see the face of the impudent questioner who hadn't waited to be called by the Press Secretary.

"You must be on a day pass."

"Yes, sir."

"Not trying to win any friends in the Administration either, right?"

There was uncomfortable laughter in pockets until one of the veterans in the front row said gruffly, "Quit giving the kid a hard time and answer the damned question."

"Larry, man, what did you have in your coffee this morning?" The Press Secretary said with a shake of his head, to more laughter in the room. "President Grant has no intention of lowering the drinking age, not now, not ever."

"Then how would you explain the President's son having a beer at the Veteran's Benefit a few nights ago?" Mr Day Pass piped up.

"It must be a really slow news day for you all…"

"I wish you didn't have to go, but I know that your kids need you more than I do."

Carlita laughed hugging Olivia on the steps of the North Portico. "Yes, they have sent me their pictures so that I will recognise them at the airport. I told them I have only been gone two days! Familia loca but I love them and they love you. They want to know when the baby will be arriving. They want to see the baby."

"Tell them I want to see the baby too – I think she's had it being stuck inside me. She wants out. Now," Olivia grinned, rubbing a hand over her baby bump;

Carlita laughed again. "Reminds me of someone else I know, who doesn't like to be confined by walls or opinions."

"Do I know this 'someone'?"

"Oh no, it is someone totally unknown to you," Carlita chuckled, giving Olivia another hug. "Now I must go, or I will miss my plane and my children will send more sad pictures." She paused to pat Darth and Daisy sitting patiently at Olivia's side, before running down the steps to the waiting White House car.

Olivia waved, watching until the car exited the White House gates, before she slowly made her way up the steps, smiling as the dogs stayed close, their warm bodies brushing her legs.

As she reached the top of the stairs, an Intern came running towards her. "Ma'am, the Press Secretary just got ambushed by a question about Jerry having a beer at the Veteran's Benefit two nights ago."

"I had a feeling about this," Olivia muttered. "Tell me what happened."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Media Panel Discussion on Trash TV Show<strong>_

"_Remember when the words President of the United States meant something?"_

"_Usually involved burning effigies and the American flag in a lot of places around the world."_

"_A lot of places outside the US of A. Now we've got lunatics burning our flag on our soil just because a cop was doing his job in Faraway County. That's a crime – it's treason!"_

"_Now, wait! Before someone starts burning a flag in this studio, let's get back to the President"—_

"_I blame the wife."_

"_The wife? Isn't that sexist to always blame the woman?"_

"_Hey, you want credit when we men do something but you wash your hands of us when we do something bad."_

"_Mrs Grant didn't attend the Veterans' Benefit."_

"_No, but who knows what kind of upbringing that kid is getting at home now…"_

* * *

><p>Fitz was finishing his meeting with Zeke, the attorney general and his security advisors when Olivia walked into the Oval Office with the two dogs still at her side. Teddy was scribbling vigorously on a piece of paper on the coffee table.<p>

"They've arrested the cop in Faraway County." Fitz sat on the edge of the couch, keeping a steadying hand on Teddy's back. "The Grand Jury returned indictments against the officer."

"That was quick." Olivia sat down beside him, while Darth jumped up next to her, and Daisy stretched out on the rug at her feet. "Didn't the DoJ Civil Rights Division just appoint a special prosecutor to supervise the case?"

"Yes, Hailey Longfeather has a reputation for not wasting time and she's dealt with the police before," said the Attorney-General, sitting in one of the upholstered armchairs. "But she didn't meet with much resistance from the local authorities. It seems the current mutual admiration society between law enforcement and the White House has lulled Faraway County law enforcement into believing the kid will escape harsher punishment."

"The kid?"

The Attorney-General paused, then added heavily, "The cop is in his early 20s."

Olivia caught Zeke's look in passing as she glanced down at the mugshot in the file that the Attorney-General handed her – a bland face with a sour expression, nothing that would make it stand out in a crowd. Then after placing her hands over Teddy's ears, she said softly, "This cop shot an unarmed boy on his knees."

"Of course, justice will be done," the AG said quickly, as Olivia dropped a kiss on Teddy's confused face before closing the file and giving it back. "But this could turn ugly. Uglier than it already is. We've got reports that Molotov cocktails and bricks have been thrown through the windows of black homes and business. Burning crosses have started appearing in their front yards too." He paused again before adding, "The family of the dead boy is not out for the cop's blood. They say they are willing to go public with this sentiment."

Olivia frowned. "Any sign of forgiveness on the family's part will impact the judicial process. A judge will be obliged to consider that public acknowledgment for a more lenient sentence."

"Forgiveness is not a bad thing."

Olivia smiled. "It's admirable that the family wants to forgive the cop who killed their only son. For no other reason that he was born black."

"I believe that's a matter of conjecture, ma'am."

Fitz lifted Teddy onto his lap, and slid his slid his arm around Olivia's waist. "We should let justice take its course."

"And hope the verdict doesn't turn out to be another slap in the face for a forgiving family," Zeke muttered.

* * *

><p>When Marta appeared to take Teddy for his bath, Zeke, the Attorney General and security advisors took it as their cue to leave the room. Olivia waited until the door closed after them before angling a look at Fitz, now perched on the edge of his desk.<p>

The first words out of his mouth were: "Why is Darth hanging around Daisy?"

At the mention of their names, Darth's ears perked up and Daisy thumped her tail but neither moved from their snooze positions beyond that.

"Really? Darth and Daisy that's what you want to talk about?" She crossed her arms over her breasts.

Fitz stood up slowly. Coming towards her, he reached for one of her hands, tugging it away from her body, then did the same with her other hand in order to draw her close. "I've got the FBI looking into the racial attacks. And Tom's already increasing security around here."

"You're worried," Olivia said softly, sliding her arms around his waist.

"I don't know if the fallout will be worth it, Livvie. What are we going to achieve with this one cop?"

"That you can't get away with murder."

"Unless you're the Leader of the Free World."

Ignoring that, Olivia said firmly, "We're talking about a hate crime. We've hit so many roadblocks trying to expose the endemic nature of police brutality in this country that the only way forward is a public trial."

"This one cop will not be the magic bullet to cure the problems of race in this country."

"No, but we have to start somewhere." After a long silence that Fitz made no attempt to break, Olivia sighed. "How is Cyrus?"

"Not dead."

"Fitz."

"He's being flown back to the US for treatment. James insisted on paying for the Air Ambulance and I wasn't going to argue." He paused. "I don't want you to visit Cyrus when he gets back in town."

"Okay."

"Promise."

"I promise."

"Do you mean it?"

"Fitz."

"If you see Cyrus, we're through." At Olivia's raised brow, Fitz went red. "Maybe not _through_ exactly."

"Then what _exactly_?"

"I'll be mad. Really, really mad."

"Really, really?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Will you slam the door on the way out?"

"I'm pretty sure it's treasonous to laugh at your husband when he's President."

"I'm pretty sure it's not, especially when he threatens to stop being my husband."

Fitz tried to kiss her but she turned away. Unfazed he pressed his lips to her temple. "Do you know how long I waited to make you mine?"

"I'm not yours."

"You know what I mean."

"No."

He chuckled softly. "In this pretend fight, how soon do we get to the making up part?"

"Who said this is a pretend fight?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Media Panel Discussion on Political Talk Show<strong>_

"_We just heard that the mother of Evan Wilson received a $325,000 letter of demand from DC Police this morning. As you may recall, Evan Wilson is the boy who took the President's daughter and her classmates hostage in a six-hour siege a few days ago. DC Police now want the mother to pay for the costs of the rescue mission, mainly for equipment deployment and travel costs for specialist teams. This is not something you hear every day, is it?" _

"_It's not unheard for some States to charge lost hikers for rescue missions. Edward Bacon is still appealing the 10,000 dollars he was charged after being rescued from White Mountain National Forest."_

"_Yeah, and a couple of years ago there was talk about whether Search and Rescue subjects should pay up after it cost taxpayers $660,000 to rescue Californians Charlotte and Eric Kaufman from the high seas. The US Navy, Coast Guard and Air National Guard put together a joint task force after one of the Kaufman kids fell sick on their round-the-world sailing adventure."_

"_But this isn't an emergency rescue, we're talking about a police safety operation which is part of their job description. It's what they get paid to do. It's what our taxes are paying them to do. I don't think it's a good sign of things to come when DC Police invoice their operational costs to the mother of a crazy kid who failed to get a girl to like him."_

"_Rumour has it the directive came from the White House."_

"_Guess the President's still mad his kid got held hostage."_

"_But if we're talking about hefty fines for bad parenting - just this morning it was revealed that the President's son was caught drinking at the Veteran's Benefit last weekend. The kid is only 14 years old and you know the legal drinking age in this country is 21. It would have been all right if the kid drank in front of his dad in the state of Washington, but underage drinking is banned in the District of Columbia."_

"_But why is our legal drinking age still 21, when a kid can enlist and vote at 18?'_

"_Jerry Grant is not 18. And it's a bit rich for the President to turn round and blame the Wilsons for not keeping a better eye on their kid."_

"_We're talking apples and oranges – one kid terrorised a bunch of pre-teens in school; the other had a beer. Not the same degree of relevance…"_

* * *

><p>Olivia broke off mid-kiss to say, "I forgot to tell you something…"<p>

"You love me." He smiled, rubbing the tip of her nose with his.

"Jerry's beer at the Veteran's Benefit… The press gallery wants to know if you're going to lower the drinking age."

"No." He nibbled on her bottom lip but she drew back.

"Fitz, this could turn into something serious."

"I hope so."

"I meant with Jerry and the beer."

He lifted his head to look at her solemnly. "Livvie, I promise I'll see he doesn't have another drop of alcohol until he's 21, not even apple cider. Or cough syrup. Okay?"

She stared at him silently, then her lashes fluttered closed as he nudged closer for another kiss.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Media Panel Discussion News Network<strong>_

"_Let's look at the figures objectively, alcohol kills more people every year than guns."_

"_That's the argument they use for legalising marijuana."_

"_Facts are facts, the latest figures from the CDC, say 88,000 people died due to excessive drinking between 2006 and 2010. If you want to know how that impacts productivity in this country, that's 1 in 10 adults between 20 and 64 years of age."_

"_I don't know where you got your facts to say alcohol kills more people than guns. Because if my maths is correct, the figures you gave amount to 22,000 people dying a year, over 4 years. The CDC figures for gun deaths came to 32,251 in 2011 which is the most recent figures we have. They estimate that gun deaths will overtake the number of car crash fatalities this year. Both categories outstrip alcohol."_

"_You're taking the figures for one year out of context and guesstimating the next."_

"_Whereas your argument is that we need to give out more guns, so gun deaths can rise on par with drink-related deaths?"_

"_That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying if the President wants to make a big deal about kids with guns, he needs to pay even more attention to kids with alcohol. And he can't do that if he's getting his own kid drunk…"_

* * *

><p>"I gotta say, Texas, winning the lottery is easier than getting a break on Skid Row," Mack said as he and Hollis sat on the kerb watching cars go by.<p>

They'd tried everything to get a ticket to the charity dinner that night where the rich and famous were to dine side by side with the poor and homeless. A decent meal was not something Mack would turn down, but he knew that having a word with Presidential wannabe Samuel Reston, the guest of honour, was Hollis' current obsession and only reason for wanting a ticket to the event.

"We tried everything, Texas. The charity ran out of tickets while we still waiting in line. We tried bribery, intimidation, even theft but we still got no tickets to that damned dinner. It's not meant to be, man, it's just not meant to be."

Hollis was silent for a long moment, then he turned abruptly to face Mack. "You done any acting?"

Mack did a double take, then slapped Hollis' arm. "Have I done any acting the man asks? Have_ I_ done any _acting_? Let me tell you somethin', you know who's helped more TV shows and movies fill their diversity quotas than you can count – yeah, that's right: me. I've been the token black dude on street corners, at the back of the court, in front of a yelling pack of media hounds, you name it. I was even an extra on the original Star Wars Movie, the third guy from the left in the desert scene."

"Wasn't that shot in Tunisia?"

"Yeah, same place that's been taken over by this new ISIS gang of whack jobs. Nothing is sacred, man, not even a movie set."

Hollis slapped Mack on the back, with a widening grin. "Mack, you're gonna need to dust off your acting skills for the Oscar-winnin' performance of your life."

"Yeah?" Mack looked skeptical.

"Yeah, this gig will be a mighty fine vehicle for your creativity – you get to write, act and direct your own part in a reality show."

"Reality show?"

"It's going to be as real as it can get, don't you worry about that."

* * *

><p>Olivia left the Oval Office in a thoughtful mood. At the end of the corridor, she saw Zeke in conversation with a group of staffers. When she passed the group with a nod and a smile, Zeke excused himself and hurried after her.<p>

"Got a minute?"

"For you, anytime," she smiled, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm.

Zeke chuckled. "Hon, that kind of sweet talkin' is going to turn me straight and then Fitz had better watch out."

Olivia laughed. "I know for a fact that Oscar has nothing to worry about. Are we going to your place or mine?"

"Mine. One of the staffers got me a box of sticky buns that I'm man enough to share with you," Zeke grinned, as Olivia shook her head at him and preceded him into the room.

"So I hear Cyrus is returning," Zeke sauntered over to the desk to pick up a bakery box as Olivia sank into a firm-cushioned armchair. Catching Olivia's nod, he added, "Are you going to see him?"

"I promised Fitz I wouldn't."

"You gonna keep that promise?"

"I think so."

Zeke laughed, holding the open box out to her.

"These look heavenly."

"They taste just as good, you'll see." Zeke sat down in the chair opposite. "So is it just me or is our Prez trying to go easy on the killer cop issue?"

"He's worried about starting a race war."

"That war started when they decided to pit us black folk against poor whites with the Virginia Slave Codes of the 17th Century. Our ancestors went from being indentured servants to slaves with no hope of freedom."

"The Virginians created definitions of race to divide the workers, because they needed free labour to make a certain class of men rich; but they didn't want the labourers to join forces and create their very own Haitian revolution. This race war is actually a class war, Zeke."

"Hell yes! They institutionalised racism in this country so the majority of people wouldn't come together to overthrow a minority that still exists today – the rich. Racism in this country is man-made, Liv. If men can build it up, men can take it down."

"Or women. We've had women like Harriet Tubman trying to free us from the institutions of slavery before the American Civil War."

Zeke grinned. "Did you just wipe the floor with my ass?"

"Yep," Olivia nodded. "I did."

Zeke laughed. "Can I offer you a second sticky bun as an apology?"

"You sure can," Olivia chuckled, polishing off the first.

* * *

><p>"Can I see your ticket, sir?"<p>

Mack patted his 'borrowed' suit theatrically. "It's here somewhere."

The security guard's face changed from polite enquiry to clear distaste. "Step aside."

"I got my ticket. I just need to find it."

"I said 'step aside'."

"He said step aside," said the man behind Mack.

"I ain't steppin' aside! You step aside!" Mack turned and gave the man a shove.

"Hey! What the fuck is your problem?!" The other man shoved back.

"Hey! Get your paws of my new suit!"

"_You_ pushed _me_, asshole!"

"You watch your mouth!"

"Make me!"

As a scuffle broke out, security and police rushed in, trying to break them apart, then the waiting media swarmed in, attracted by Mack's yells of "Police brutality! Help! HELP!"

In the background, Hollis Doyle slipped past the cordon and was making his way to the outdoor dining area when someone yelled, "Security! SECURITY! That guy sneaked in without a ticket! He didn't have no ticket!"

Hollis went into high gear, sprinting down the cordoned passage with security guards chasing after him. He toppled tables and chairs as he hot-footed into the hotel, trying to spot Sam Reston among the random suits watching him go past with fascinated interest. He'd just entered the elevator lobby when he was grabbed from behind and tackled to the floor.

"Gotdammit!" he swore, then started yelling at the top of his lungs, "Sam Reston, can you hear me?! It's Hollis Doyle! HOLLIS DOYLE!"

"Quit hollering and stick your hands up where I can see them!" A security guard thundered in Hollis' ear, as he lay weighted down by the bodies on top of him.

"Try not to get blood on the carpet, I don't want our guests to think they're in downtown LA."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hollis saw a pair of polished designer shoes. "Hey!" He mumbled from the side of his face, not smushed against the floor. "Do you know where Samuel Reston is?"

"Is this vagrant talking to me?" The shoes took a step back.

"Yes! I'm gotdamn talking to you!" Hollis shouted as he was hauled to his feet. He glared down at the suit wearing a hotel badge. "You tell Sam Reston that Hollis Doyle ain't dead! You tell him the guy who told him about Defiance ain't DEAD!"

The suit snatched a crisply-folded handkerchief from this jacket pocket and wiped a drop of Hollis spittle off his expensive jacket sleeve before saying in disgust, "Get this lunatic out of here before he does any more damage!"

Further along the corridor, one of Reston's assistants, hurrying towards the elevators, carrying plastic-wrapped drycleaning in her hands, stared after the man being dragged away. She recalled that Samuel Reston had given a eulogy at Hollis Doyle's funeral. Only the guy apparently wasn't dead.

She took out her phone to call her boss, then stared in exasperation at a text message to get the kitchen to send more ice. Muttering under her breath, she banished Hollis Doyle from her thoughts as she hurried off to resolve this new task, after handing the dry-cleaning to a porter to take up to the Presidential suite.

* * *

><p>Out in the parking lot, Mack refused to get into the back of the police van.<p>

"I ain't getting in there! That's a death machine! Black men who get thrown in alive and fall out dead – you heard of Freddie Grey?"

Seeing a flashbulb go off, the police officers turned to see a lone photographer, and started yelling for him to scram or get arrested.

"I ain't going nowhere." The photographer kept snapping away. "If this guy turns up dead, I've got an exclusive."

"Damned media vultures." Mack shook his head.

"You shut your mouth and get in the back of the van!" an officer yelled at Mack.

"No! You can shoot me right here in front of witnesses, but I ain't getting into that damned thing so I end up with a broken neck!"

Minutes later, Mack found himself being shoved as roughly as possible into the backseat of a cop car, with his hands cuffed behind his back. Barely had Mack got his breath back than Hollis landed on top of him.

"Both of you get to spend the night in lockup!" They were advised before the door slammed shut.

Mack turned to Hollis and said conversationally, "You see what these MoFos have done to my nice new suit. They've ripped it to shreds, man. Ripped it to shreds. Now how am I gonna be able to return it to the guy at the gym who doesn't know I took it?"

Hollis lay in his corner, silent and brooding.

"Texas man, you okay? Look on the bright side, we ain't dead... Yet."

* * *

><p>After consulting with the charity organisers, the assistant manager let the hotel manager know the dinner party could go ahead.<p>

The hotel manager slipped in among the designer-suited and –gowned guests in the Presidential suite, to let the hotel owner know.

The hotel owner in turn, rested a hand on Reston's shoulder and murmured the message in the candidate's ear.

Reston nodded and announced that his guests should start making their way downstairs. "Our dining companions are getting impatient and we shouldn't keep them waiting, who knows how long it's been since they had a proper meal!"

* * *

><p>After her daily wrap-up with her aides and chief of staff in the East Wing, Olivia was trying to make a dent in piles of paperwork on her desk when the door opened and Fitz walked in.<p>

"I'm just finishing up." Olivia muttered, scribbling her signature across a document.

Fitz sat on the edge of the desk, watching her make notes on another sheet. "Is that my schedule for next month?" At Olivia's nod, he asked, "Why is my Medal of Freedom presentation to comedian Phil Mosby cancelled?"

"Because you can't take it back once you give it out. There's going to be media fallout – there's going to be accusations – one's he can't bury and you can't excuse. His people approached Abby for help, but she declined because she won't stand for any man taking advantage of a woman."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I loved his shows."

"He was one of my heroes. I wanted him to be my dad." Olivia shook her head at the memory and drew another pile of paperwork towards her, saying "Almost done."

Fitz reached over and took the pen from her hand. "You're done." He placed the pen on the desk, and got to his feet, before turning her swivel chair to face him. Then as she opened her mouth to argue, he kissed her softly and whispered, "We're going on a date."

"But it's a school night." The protest was half-hearted at best.

"Our kids have a leave of absence from school."

"Until we make other arrangements."

"Don't distract me," Fitz lifted Olivia up off the chair and onto her feet. "We'll talk about the school situation in the morning. Right now, we're going to talk about our date."

"We're just _talking_ about it?" Olivia murmured as Fitz steered her out of the office. "I'm not wearing my shoes."

"You don't need shoes." Fitz slipped his arm around her waist as they headed down the corridor.

"So we're having an in-house date?"

"We're going to the movies."

"Oh! It's been ages since I've been to the movies."

"At least 48 hours. Yes, I know."

Olivia giggled at his dry tone. He leaned down and kissed her. "Mmm, you taste like sticky bun glaze."

"Zeke told you." She sighed, as his lips brushed her mouth again. "I was going to bring you one, but they tasted so good, it kinda of disappeared in my mouth on my way to your office."

He chuckled softly. "You can make it up to me if you want to; Zeke's put in an order to have the bakery make a delivery at least once a week to you."

"_Once a week_?! I'll have to increase my yoga sessions or you'll need a crane to lift me out of my chair."

"All the more reason to share," Fitz laughed softly, brushing another lingering kiss on her mouth.

So what are we watching?" Olivia gave a coy look that made Fitz laugh.

"It's not what you think, naughty girl."

"What am I thinking?"

"You know what you're thinking."

"No, I don't."

"We're going to see _A Birth of a Nation._"

Fitz had taken a couple of steps before he realised that Oliva was no longer with him.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you say _A Birth of a Nation?" _

"Yeah. Is there a problem? Hey!" He called out when Olivia turned on her heel and started walking away. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to call my lawyer, we're getting a divorce!"

Fitz jogged up behind her, catching hold of her arm. "Before you do that, could you just sit through this movie with me?"

"No." She snatched her arm away.

"Sweetheart—"

"Don't call me that."

"Olivia. Just do this for me. It's all I ask."

She gave him a suspicious frown. "Is it really _A Birth of a Nation?_"

"Come see for yourself." He held out his hand.

She glared at him, then his hand, before stepping pointedly around him and walking away. Fitz fell into step beside her, sneaking the occasional glance at her set face as she maintained a chilly distance between them. They made their way to the Family Theatre in silence. Olivia even made it a point to sit in the farthest armchair from him.

"This is going to make passing the popcorn a bit awkward."

"You can have all the popcorn." Olivia muttered, plonking her feet on the foot stool.

The lights dimmed and the movie started on the big screen. It was a full five minutes later when Olivia said, "This is our wedding video."

"Yep, it's the Pope-Grant remake of _A Birth of Nation_."

There was a creak of furniture, followed by a rustling sound, then Fitz found himself with an armful of Olivia on his lap.

"Hi," he grinned, "Is the divorce off?"

"You are such a meanie," she complained, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Can I call you sweetheart?"

"I hate you," she muttered in return.

He laughed, tightening his arms around her.

* * *

><p>Sam was smiling as he shook hands with the wait staff. He knew they'd be voting in the upcoming elections but he genuinely wanted to thank them for what had turned out to be an exceptional evening – his campaign coffers had received a much needed boost, and he'd received several official endorsements. As a bonus, the charity was happy with the caliber and generosity of the paying guests.<p>

He was making his way to the elevators, with the intention of heading up to his suite, surrounded by his staff and hotel management, when a pesky photojournalist yelled across the foyer, "Governor Reston, have you got a comment to make about Hollis Doyle's resurrection?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you for your wishes for my exams – it got me through another semester! Only one more to go!

LOL, I promise I haven't found my 'Fitz'. No, as usual after weeks of not writing, I just lost the plot. Again. Next time I write a long, meandering beast of a story, I'll have to chart a plot on paper, instead of relying on memory!

Also for the compliment on my 'smut writing' (KikiNickMc) - *blush*

And it's true I have been rejected by Mills & Boon (UK version of Harlequin). To be fair to them, I didn't write according to their 'standard best-selling formula'. It's more freeing to be able to write the way you want without worrying about 'what sells'.

Hey, Ultratee from Nigeria - Ndewo and dalunu for reading (Did I get that right? I used Google Translate!). I know I have readers from other countries but I try to stay US-centric for this story (emphasis on 'try' as I often misunderstand US politics, law etc and take you guys into an unintended state of fantasy) - ;)

To everyone reading, thank you for your patience as always, and for loving my favourite characters which are really all of them. And I will attack my inbox shortly (Clio1972)

So with the return of my references (I'm trying not to make this list longer than the actual story), here's a few:

'This Is How We Lost to the White Man' - The audacity of Bill Cosby's black conservatism - Ta-Nehisi Coates (Atlantic)

Bill Cosby Awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom (2002) - Audie Murphy American Legend (Youtube)

THE CULTURE OF WHITE SUPREMACY - by Sharon Martinas and the Challenging White Supremacy Workshop [whgbetc DOT com]

Origins of White Supremacy - thoughtsandmemory DOT wordpress DOT com

Hollywood's diversity sham: How TV and movies save face by casting minority extras - RH Greene (Salon)

The Hidden Factor in Hollywood's Racial Diversity Problem - Lily Rothman (Time)

Hollywood 'race casting': what the industry is getting wrong about diversity - Britt Julious (The Guardian)


	50. Tell Me What You See

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Back in the Presidential suite, Sam Reston stared at the paparazzo who'd made himself comfortable on a couch.<p>

"Tell me again what you know about Hollis Doyle." Reston instructed.

"He was a pretty influential guy; a lobbyist in Washington who was a powerful mover and shaker, until he took part in his own fireworks show over the Pacific."

Sam Reston gave a thin smile. "Hollis Doyle is dead. I was at his funeral."

"But his body was never found."

"The explosion would have turned him into fish food."

"Guess the fish spat him out. Whole. Because a homeless bum ran into the hotel earlier this evening claiming to be Hollis Doyle."

"The man was clearly mentally ill. Or high on narcotics," Reston said dismissively.

There was a timid clearing of a throat behind Reston's left shoulder. He turned to see one of his assistants raise a hand half way, then quickly lower it as if realising she wasn't at school. "Sir, I heard the b- uh, man, shouting in the lobby when I was coming back with your dry-cleaning. He said Hollis Doyle wasn't dead. He insisted the man who told you about Defiance isn't dead." She paused. "…Are you okay, sir?"

The paparazzo perked up. "What's the story with Defiance? Is that a code name?"

Reston, who'd gone pale, ignored the paparazzo's question to ask abruptly, "Where is he? This homeless bum?"

* * *

><p>"So this guy is a rich oil tycoon?" the deputy hotel manager, glanced at Reston's assistant as they made their way down the elevator.<p>

"Apparently."

"You'd never know he was good at anything except dumpster-diving. Wonder how he ended up on the streets?"

"It's a mystery."

The manager shot her a look but appeared mollified when she smiled. "You don't have to worry about that newspaper snoop following you around. My guys will run interference for a couple of hours, feeding him shit for his background story before we kick him out. That should give you enough time to get back to the hotel with our, uh, unexpected guests."

"Thank you."

As the doors opened to the underground car park. "Sure you don't want me to drive you to the police station? I wouldn't want you to get lost."

"I've got GPS, sir, and thank you for organising a car for me."

* * *

><p>When Reston's assistant arrived at the police station, she was asked, "Theft, assault or murder?"<p>

"I, uh, do you have a man called Hollis Doyle in lockup?"

"Is he a relative?"

"Yes… Distant."

"Down the corridor, turn left."

After he'd finished leering at her, then patronising her, the cop in charge told Reston's assistant, "Two men were arrested at the hotel earlier tonight. The fingerprints of one guy says he's a dead man."

"I'd like to post bail for that man."

"There's no bail. The hotel wanted them locked up for the night so they wouldn't crash the Senator's party a second time. Once was one time too many is what I was told."

"I'll take full responsibility for Mr Doyle."

"What do you want me to do with the other one?"

"The other one?"

The cop gave a description of Mack that made the woman firm her lips.

"I'll take him. In case he winds up dead."

The cop's flirtatious grin disappeared. "You got something to say?"

"Oh no, sir, I don't have anything to say," the assistant widened her eyes innocently.

"You a lawyer?"

"In training."

The cop looked at her warily. "So you want to see these guys or not?"

"Yes, please. Uh, but I'd like to see Hollis Doyle alone first… if that's all right."

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Preethi," she said with a bright smile.

The flirtatious grin reappeared. "That's a pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Thank you, that's what my husband says too," Preethi smiled, hiding her ringless hands in her jacket pockets.

* * *

><p>Mack was lying on his bunk, his hands clasped over his stomach. "All those times you tried to get yourself arrested and thrown in jail, and here we are. We made it, man. It's true what they say about the American Dream, if you keep trying you'll eventually succeed."<p>

Hollis Doyle on the lower bunk, didn't say a word. But he sat up with alacrity when a bored, beefy cop strode up and announced, "You've got visitors."

"Visitors?" Mack raised his head.

"Not you, him." The cop indicated Hollis with a jerk of his chin.

As Hollis was taken out of the holding cell, Mack lay back down, muttering to himself, "I do all the work and he gets the visitors. Story of my life." He'd stopped muttering and was beginning to doze, when the cop returned and barked, "You! Out!"

Mack raised his head, and stared at him blearily. "You letting me go or you gonna shoot me in the back pretendin' I escaped?"

"Get your ass movin'!"

"Or you'll shoot me." Mack said wearily, climbing down. "Man, we are just free-range targets for white mofos in the shooting range of America."

"You've got a smart mouth. The kind that will get you killed." The cop yanked Mack out of the cell.

"This is a democracy."

"You don't talk until I say so." The cop gave Mack another shove.

Mack swallowed his retort and lengthened his stride, taking care to hurry without looking like he was. He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the exit alive.

In one of the interview rooms, Hollis was waiting with a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, who looked like she was running late for a business meeting.

"Is this your buddy Mack?" she asked.

"Yeah," Hollis Doyle nodded. "That's him."

"Hello, Mack, my name is Preethi." She came forward and shook hands with her fingertips, before saying quickly. "Shall we go?"

"Where are we going?"

"To meet Sam Reston." Hollis smirked.

* * *

><p>Dawn was just breaking when Hollis and Mack were shown into the Presidential suite. Preethi ushered them into a living room and shut the sliding door after herself as she left.<p>

Sam Reston got to his feet slowly from one of the armchairs and stared at Hollis. There was a long silence, then Reston said with a grunt of laughter, "Well, Mr Doyle, you are the last man I expected to see alive. You look good for a cadaver."

Hollis responded with a light chuckle. "You gave a mighty fine eulogy at my funeral. It nearly brought tears to my eyes."

"I appreciate the feedback. I don't usually get reviews from the dead."

Mack who'd been following this conversation with a confused frown, interrupted. "He ain't dead."

"I can see that," Reston said softly.

* * *

><p>Zeke arrived with the morning papers and sat down at the breakfast table. Olivia and Fitz were discussing the day's schedule while Teddy tried to impose his artistic skills on Fitz's notes.<p>

"Hollis Doyle has resurfaced." Zeke paused as a plate and cutlery were placed before him. "Some things work fast around here. Can't say the same for Doyle. I thought he'd make it back to the living long before this."

"What happened?" Olivia asked as she passed her tablet to Teddy who wanted to see the 'innernet'.

"My informant said Doyle turned up at Reston's publicity stunt charity dinner last night, and got himself arrested."

"It will be interesting to see how Doyle tries to get his life back," Fitz fed morsels of food from his plate to the dogs waiting eagerly at his feet. "The man doesn't have any money now to wield his usual influence."

Olivia was silent for a moment, then said slowly. "We'll have to keep an eye on him. I don't like the idea that he's with Reston."

* * *

><p>"Why me?" Reston asked abruptly.<p>

Mack had fallen asleep on one of the couches and was snoring loudly. Hollis was lounging in an armchair.

"Sally's two bricks short of a full load and I didn't want the woman to get hysterical on me believin' she was seein' the second comin' of Satan. I reckoned you, at least, wouldn't attempt to shoot a ghost."

Reston smiled. "Any ideas as to who would help you fall this far from grace?"

"The President's ex-chief of staff. Guilt made that man quit, then he came after me."

"Last I heard, Cyrus is in hospital with Malaria."

"Malaria?" After hearing the details, humour lit Hollis Doyle's face. "Those two sure don't play nice when they get mad. This has the paw prints of a certain little lady known to both of us."

"Are you saying… _the Grants_… are behind this?"

"I reckon they found out about that little war Cyrus and I tried to cook up with all the trimmings for you and your buddies…"

* * *

><p>"Where are we going?" Olivia asked, holding onto Fitz's arm as he steered out of the Oval Office with his hands over her eyes.<p>

"It's a surprise."

"What's the surprise?"

"You'll know when we get there."

"Can't you give me a hint?"

"Nope."

"Fitz—"

"You can open your eyes now."

Olivia stared at the table in the Private Dining Room, where enlarged glossy photographs were laid carefully in neat rows.

"Felicia's portraits."

"Mm," Fitz murmured, sliding his arm around her waist as he guided her along the table. There was the 'perfect' family portrait. But arranged around it were others, showing the chaos of a Norman Rockwell painting: Fitz trying to catch hold of Teddy as he made a run for it on his sturdy little legs; Olivia laughing as Karen and Jerry kissed her stomach; Daisy and Rowan exchanging mutually suspicious looks side-by-side and Felicia arranging puppies neatly in a picnic basket with Poppy inspecting; in practically all of them Darth and Rex were snoozing in the foreground.

"This is my favourite," Fitz said softly, pointing to the one where he and Olivia were sneaking a kiss. Teddy on Fitz's lap was reaching up to pull Karen's hair, as she was distracted by the puppies in the basket on her arm. Jerry was trying to include Pete via a Snapchat screenshot, while Felicia was brushing at Rowan's jacket. Only Rowan was facing the camera, a solitary figure of calm with a wide smile on his face.

Olivia turned, her face glowing, to wrap her arms around Fitz.

With a soft look, he brought his hands up to cup her face, and kissed her. Then they stood with their arms wrapped around each other, his cheek resting on the top of her head, as they stared at the photographs on the table.

Eventually he whispered, "Do you think Felicia could do one of us in the nude?"

She drew back to look at him with such a horrified expression, he started to laugh.

* * *

><p>While Hollis and Mack were sitting down to a hot meal delivered by room service, Reston called through on a prepaid phone one of his staffers had just purchased which would later be destroyed.<p>

"We have a problem?"

"We?"

"You."

There was laughter. "There's no problem that can't be fixed with a little spit and a shit load of grease."

"Hollis Doyle is not dead."

There was silence. "Is this some kind of sick joke? I am not paying you to be funny, Governor."

"I am serious, Hollis Doyle is sitting no more than 20 feet from where I stand. The man is not dead."

"Then who the blazes got incinerated in that rinky-dink jet?"

"That's not the question you should be asking. It's who has the resources to strip a man of his money and make him look dead."

There was a long silence. Then a click and Reston realised the phone had been disconnected without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

><p>As soon as he'd disconnected Reston, Doug Cosh made a few more calls.<p>

He had connections. He had minions. Even his minions had connections, so he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

Then he put a call through to his brother, Chuck, on a yacht near the Gulf of Mexico, fishing for trophies among vulnerable Blue Marlin and critically endangered Southern Bluefin Tuna.

"Are you sitting down?" Doug asked.

"Yep," Chuck breezed, resting his champagne flute on the curve of his sunburnt belly.

"Hollis Doyle is not dead."

"Who the hell is Hollis Doyle?"

Doug released an impatient breath. "Doyle engineered that little war for us."

"Him! That bastard should have had the sense to stay dead! We didn't get a war, we got a mess that wouldn't impress a toddler in a sandpit. I was hoping for troops on the ground, tanks, guns, missiles – the whole 9 yards for at least a decade. Instead we got a spat. All because Hollis didn't do his job right and Grant is a sissy. He doesn't have the guts to go for glory."

Doug waited with barely contained patience for his brother to stop pontificating. "Hollis Doyle had money."

Chuck laughed. "His money was as impressive as panhandling pennies in a wornout bucket."

"You are missing the point. First they start with the minnows, then they come for the sharks. You know the man is a damned Socialist!"

Chuck sat up in his deck chair. "What the blazes are you talking about? Who's a damned Socialist?"

"Fitzgerald Grant. Who the dang hell did you think was behind the whole 'Doyle is Dead' sting? I liked Fitzgerald Grant better when he was distracted chasing after the skirts of that woman. Now he's a damned nuisance."

There was a long silence, then Chuck said grimly. "Grant isn't going to make it to another term."

"We can't wait until the election. There's no telling what he'll do when thinks he's got nothing to lose. We need to get rid of him now."

"A hired gun?"

"I'll get Reston to take care of it. That way we keep our hands clean."

"Has he got the balls for it?"

"He's got Doyle with him. They should be able to think of something."

* * *

><p>Hollis and Mack had slept for 12 hours straight, snoring in unison on two couches in Reston's Presidential suite. They woke starving and bleary-eyed, just as Reston got another call on his phone.<p>

"Grant needs to go," Doug Cosh said without preamble.

Reston smiled. "I knew it."

"What you know is neither here nor there. We need Grant gone, and we need it done yesterday."

"Any suggestions?"

"That's your job. Yours and Doyle's. Keep his return under wraps for now. The surprise element will be an advantage. Make sure you get the job done right this time."

"Wait," Reston said, anticipating another abrupt disconnection. "The media will be releasing news of Hollis' return. There was a Paparazzo here—"

"The media will do no such thing! I own the bastards!" The call disconnected.

"What was all that about?" Hollis asked, rubbing the stubble that had reappeared on the chin he'd shaved early that morning.

Reston glanced from Hollis to Mack, who stopped yawning long enough to notice.

"Right!" Mack got to his feet, stretched and yawned again. "I need to use the Little Boys Room. Be right back."

Reston waited until Mack had gone in search of a restroom, before revealing, "The brothers want Grant gone."

"Gone?"

"You're good at problem-solving with permanent solutions."

Doyle looked at Reston. "You're speaking to a man who's been living on the street without a Rolodex. I need to get my life back before I can work my usual magic." Then he looked at Reston ruminatively, "Besides, you sure you want to dig up more snakes than you can kill? If you get rid of Grant, Olivia won't rest until she finds his killer and sees him hanged, even if she has to do the hangin' herself."

"You're right, she's more of a problem than he is."

"And if she's gone, you know those misfits who belong in a halfway house won't rest until we're ruined."

"If we cut the head, the beast is dead. I'm sure they won't be a problem."

Hollis gave a slow smile. "A dead bee can still sting. The way I see it, you'll be the only thing standing in the way of Mrs Sally Langston reclaiming her throne. And she won't rest until she connects you to the murder. She can't do that if she's half as guilty of the crime."

* * *

><p>Sally Langston in a designer track suit, was drumming up support in a local Diner. She was shaking hands and making conversation with workmen having breakfast, when she got the call.<p>

"Samuel, this is a surprise," she greeted him with false cheer.

Reston smiled. "I have an even bigger one for you, Sally. There's someone here who wants to say 'howdy'."

There was a brief pause, then a second male voice spoke. "Sally Langston, how is the weather treatin' you in the Bible belt? I hope God ain't misbehavin'."

"Who is this?"

"Well, I haven't been dead that long, Sally. It's Doyle. Hollis Doyle as I live and breathe."

Sally disconnected the call, but her phone rang almost immediately. Excusing herself, Sally stepped out into the parking lot of the Diner. Once she was out of sight, her smile vanished as she hissed. "I do not appreciate your sense of humour, Samuel."

"Sally, I assure you this is not a joke. Hollis Doyle is not dead."

* * *

><p>Hollis was flicking through TV channels, chomping on the closest thing he could get to a Gettysburger, with a side order of Southern Fried Chicken when he caught Mack stuffing biscuits into the pockets of his new jacket.<p>

"Mack, you don't need to be doing that no more," Hollis mumbled with his mouth full. "Reston's gonna keep us fed until he's won the election." He made a noise that could have been a laugh.

Mack eyed him to make sure he wasn't choking before sitting down next to him on the sofa. "I know you think I don't know what's going on, but what I do know is how to survive. Right now my survival instincts are on red alert. This Reston ain't worth shit, and I don't want to be the black dude that winds up dead 10 minutes into the show."

Hollis gave another muffled cackle. "You'd be right about Reston, he's slicker than a slop jar. But I need to get my life back."

"And you need to take down the sitting President and the First Lady for that?"

Hollis gaped at Mack, then chewed his mouthful slowly. "You been listenin' at doors?"

"Yep."

Hollis grunted a laugh. "You don't know it, but I just saved their lives. But there's nothing stoppin' me from making them losing everything else. What goes around comes around."

"So this is payback?" Mack got to his feet. "Well you go on right ahead and do that, but them folk have done nothing to me. So I'm going to hit the streets and leave you to it."

Hollis waited until Mack got to the door. "You want to live the rest of your life a walking target?" As Mack turned to look at Hollis slowly, the latter drawled, "That meathead at the station who kicked you on your way out, looks like he's a real sheep-killing dog. You'll have to sleep with one eye open now that I ain't there to watch over you."

"You never did watch over me. _I_ watched over _you_."

Hollis took another bite and watched Mack lazily, not saying another word, watching the wheels turn in Mack's head.

"You are one mean son of a bastard, you know that?" Mack said eventually, shaking his head as he sat down.

Hollis grinned, and reached for the bucket of chicken.

* * *

><p>Olivia was helping Teddy down the steps, with the dogs wagging their tails and following behind; when Fitz rushed up to lift Teddy into his arms, before grabbing her hand. "Hurry, they're almost here."<p>

Laughing, she picked up her pace as they made their way to the golf cart that was to take them to the heliport on the South Lawn. The dogs, all except for Poppy up in Karen's room, raced on ahead until a sharp command from a Marine on duty, made them sit, as the chopper began to descend.

Once the blades stopped whirring, the doors opened and the kids tumbled out; prompting the dogs to break loose and race forward, with Teddy following as fast as he could on his chubby legs, and Fitz and Olivia not far behind.

There were octopus-armed hugs, and raining of kisses, squeals, laughter, barking, more hugs and kisses.

"Didn't miss you, Dad," Jerry mumbled from the depths of his father's chest.

"Yeah, I didn't miss you either," Fitz grinned, not letting him go.

Karen smiled up at Olivia, wrapped tight in each other's arms. "Guess what?" she whispered.

"What?" Olivia whispered back.

Karen pushed out from the group hug to ask Rowan, "Can I tell them now?"

"Not yet." Rowan standing on the periphery, shook his head. He looked happy and relaxed, holding hands with Felicia.

"Then when?"

"Tell us what?" Olivia looked at her dad.

"It's best if we all sit down for this one."

* * *

><p>"So what's the deal?" Olivia asked when they reached the Family Room.<p>

Teddy had attached himself like a barnacle to Jerry; Karen was sprawled on the carpet letting Poppy's puppies climb all over her. Fitz and Olivia were sorting through their souvenirs, while the dogs chewed or played with their own toys.

"We're black and white," Jerry said without preamble.

"What?" Fitz looked up from the T-shirt covered with protest buttons that he'd got from the kids.

"Jerry." Felicia sighed.

"Mom wanted to know."

"You might want to sit down for this. Both of you," Rowan advised, waiting for a length of time as if to collect his thoughts before adding, "I have a friend at the University of Maryland. She's been in contact with a group of genealogists who have been studying our ancestries." Rowan paused. "More precisely, they've been studying the Grant heritage and came across some evidence that indicate our ancestral paths have crossed in the past."

Jerry leaned against Olivia and said sotto voce. "It's a good thing I know this story or this pace would kill me." Then he straightened immediately, catching Rowan's eye.

Rowan continued, after ensuring he had everyone's undivided attention. "Your ancestors have a long history in this country, Fitzgerald."

"I know, our ancestors were among the earliest Irish immigrants who came to this country to escape the potato famine."

Jerry sniggered, and was immediately, 'shushed' by Felicia.

"Fitzgerald, the first man to set foot in the Americas on the Grant ancestral tree came from an entirely different part of the world. The genealogical team have traced the Grant lineage to a man named Joseph Gunta, who arrived in Virginia as an indentured servant, but was later enslaved for life after he tried to escape his servitude. You are the 10th great-grandson of Joseph Gunta, a black man transported from Africa."

"Africa?" Olivia repeated, staring at her father. Then she swiftly turned to Fitz, who hadn't made a sound.

"Fitz…" She reached for his hand.

"Dad…" Jerry and Karen sidled close.

Fitz glanced up from a study of his fingers interlinked with Olivia's, and said slowly, "I'm the descendent of Joseph Gunta. An African who ended up a slave."

"Yes," Rowan confirmed, adding softly, almost kindly, "Prior to his enslavement, Joseph Gunta married a free white woman. Her 'free status' was passed onto their children who eventually changed their name from Gunta to Grant. The couple had four children, and the descendent of one followed the Gold Rush to California."

"My great-great-great grandfather Albert Grant."

"Yes."

Fitz met Olivia's gaze, and smiled. "Guess my biography needs a rewrite."

"There's more, Dad," Jerry murmured.

"Guess who owned Grandpa Gunta?" Karen looked from Fitz to Olivia and back again.

"Wait... you don't mean…?" Olivia frowned.

"Are you saying…?" Fitz stopped.

All eyes turned to Rowan.

"Joseph Gunta was the property of an Irish immigrant, a wealthy farmer, who fought in the American Revolution. A man named Andrew Perry who had several slaves besides Gunta. One of them was a slave, recorded in the slave register as Betsey. Perry fathered her first child when she was 15, that child was a girl named Honoria. Olivia and I are Honoria's descendants."

* * *

><p>"Would you like something to drink – tea, ice water?"<p>

"I'm fine, dad," Olivia released her father's arm and sat down. He'd brought her up to his study, so she could absorb what she'd heard and ask him questions, while Fitz stayed downstairs with the kids and Felicia.

"When you set out to teach the kids the history of America, did you know you'd be giving them a dose of our history too?"

Rowan's smile was almost affectionate. "You think I went behind your back? I assure you that I didn't know any of this when I agreed to meet the researchers. I was merely curious when they said they had found a connection between the Grants and the Popes. I thought Karen and Jerry would be interested to learn of it too." He looked at his daughter. "How do you feel?"

"I keep thinking of Betsey." Olivia rubbed her hands along her upper arms. "How old was she when she came to work for Perry?"

Rowan was silent for a long moment, then he said heavily. "I have a copy of her Bill of Sale." He went to his desk and opened his briefcase, taking out a document with both hands, and carrying it carefully towards her.

Olivia stared at the Bill of Sale which Rowan placed in her hands, which read '_Received of Andrew Perry four hundred and fifty dollars, being in full for the purchase of a negro slave named… Betsey, 4, the right and title of said slave, we warrant and defend against the claims of all persons whatsoever and likewise warrant her sound and healthy…'_

"Four? Was Betsey only four years old when she was sold?"

"Yes."

Olivia's eyes welled. "Four hundred and fifty dollars for a 4-year-old child."

Rowan drew her clumsily against him. "Betsey was a strong woman. She worked in the master's fields, she worked in the master's home and she raised the master's children. She lived to be a 100 years old. When I heard her story, I thought to myself how much she sounded like you: proud and determined to let nothing break her."

That made Olivia weep even more, but Rowan stopped her.

He lifted her face to meet his stern gaze. "Olivia, you cannot let that haunt you. The cruelty, the inhumanity that was inflicted on us, we cannot let it defeat us or bow us down. Our ancestral branch in this country may have started with the seed of a white man but we are black. The day has not arrived where we are judged by the contents of our character, and our ancestry will be of no interest to those who cannot see beyond the colour of our skin. In fact, there will be resentment that we can lay claim to the symbols they cherish."

"I do not want to claim any of that, especially the Confederate flag."

Rowan waited until Olivia had finished blowing her nose on the handkerchief he gave, before he continued. "Once they realise that, they will either take comfort in the knowledge that they can lay claim to your achievements. Or they will resent you for not wanting to step on to the pedestal of supremacy that they have created."

"I don't want to be on a pedestal, either on my own or with them." Olivia blew her nose again. Then gave the handkerchief back to Rowan who placed it gingerly on the couch cushion beside him.

"What about you, Dad?"

"How do I feel about Perry?"

Olivia nodded.

"His African children were born into slavery, and he sold them to slavery. There is not a lot I can feel for that man apart from contempt."

Olivia looked down at her hands, one finger lightly tracing over her wedding ring. "How do you feel about Fitz and Joseph Gunta?"

"I'm sure Gunta would be proud to see how far Fitz has come as a black man."

Her father's dry tone surprised a laugh out of Olivia, and after a hesitant moment they shared a smile.

* * *

><p>Olivia was laughing at something Rowan was saying about their trip, when they heard a knock on the door.<p>

At Rowan's bidding, Fitz poked his head through the opening, his gaze zeroing in on Olivia. Then the rest of his body followed into the room.

There was an awkward moment, before Rowan rose slowly to his feet. "I need to see Jerry. He promised to help me customise the factory settings on my iPad."

Fitz smiled. "He's downstairs in the projector room with Karen and Felicia. They're trying to connect Jerry's laptop to the projector."

"Ah, then they will be in dire need of my expertise." Rowan said as Fitz and Olivia chuckled.

After Rowan had departed, closing the door firmly behind him, Fitz stood for a moment gazing at Olivia. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling.

Sitting down next to her on the couch, he studied her face. "You've been crying," he accused softly.

Without a word Olivia left the couch, going towards Rowan's desk and returning with the copy of Betsey's Bill of Sale.

Fitz read the document, then looked up quickly when a tear drop landed on his forearm. "Livvie…" He groaned, placing the document on the nearest surface before taking her in his arms.

Olivia sniffed, burrowing close. "Dad said Betsey lived to be a 100."

"Wow." He held her tight.

"He thinks I've inherited her strength." She drew back to look at him.

"I am sure of it." He pressed a soft kiss on her mouth, then smiled. "Jerry's ecstatic that he's black."

A laugh escaped Olivia, then she lifted a hand to his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"About being black?"

She smiled. "About Joseph Gunta being your ancestor."

Fitz kissed her palm once before admitting, "Felicia was telling me how Gunta tried to escape his servitude, but he was caught, whipped and enslaved. It wasn't the first time he tried to escape his chains and it wasn't the last time. He fought with his last breath to be a free man."

Olivia closed her eyes, laying her forehead against his cheek.

"Jerry and Karen don't know the whole story," Fitz muttered.

"I'm glad."

They sat in silence for a long time until Fitz broke the silence to whisper, "Do you know what I keep thinking about?"

"What?"

"Big Jerry's reaction if he'd been alive to hear it."

Olivia stayed silent.

Fitz gave a grunt of laughter. "My father made his bigotry obvious. Now I wonder if the people who behave this way know, instinctively, that they don't belong; that if they don't keep showing their racism someone will discover their true heritage and kick them out."

"Like Jebediah Orton," Olivia murmured, "The guy sued the KKK for $10 million on a claim of racial discrimination, after they fired him for having a great-great-great grandfather who was black. People want to be part of the cool clique, Fitz, even if they are a bunch of mean girls. And those who want to belong, can act even meaner to gain entry."

Fitz stroked his hand along her arm. "These conversations aren't going to get easier, are they?"

"Do you want them to be easy? The only way that can happen is if we stop talking about it. Is that what you want?"

"No." He sighed. "Nothing has changed between us, has it?"

"No," Olivia agreed. "I still love you."

He stared at her solemn face, then gave a soft grunt of laughter as he crushed her close and kissed her thoroughly.

"Do you realise we're in your father's study?" he rasped, when they broke apart breathless and flushed.

"Yes." She tugged him back for another kiss.

"We haven't made out here," he muttered the second time they came up for air.

"What are we doing now?" she teased.

"We're not a couple of teenagers, Liv."

"Fitz," she started to laugh. "We can't…I couldn't… what if he finds out?"

"We can… you could…and we won't tell him."

"You are such a guy sometimes."

"Your guy," he murmured, "You own me, I belong to you."

Olivia stilled. "You could not have known…"

"I think I did."

"Fitz," she drew back to look at him, smiling. "Slavery was abolished in 1865."

"This is a voluntary relinquishing of ownership rights." He kissed her again. "So where should we do it?"

"Fitz!" she laughed.

* * *

><p>Zeke whistled as he climbed the stairs to Rowan's study. "Hey!" He knocked on the door. "You guys decent?"<p>

"No!" came Fitz's rapid shout, followed by Olivia's muffled giggle.

"I didn't think so. I reckoned the reason Professor Pope sent me to fetch the two of you is because he wanted to spare himself the embarrassment of walking in on you fooling around."

"We weren't fooling around," Fitz said firmly, holding the door ajar as he stuffed his shirt into his pants. Olivia preceded him, giving Zeke a pert look and an even more pert aside, "We were discussing really important business."

Zeke laughed. "Sure, hon. I believe you. Not sure if any else would, seeing that Fitz forgot to do up the back of your dress."

Olivia back tracked, still keeping her gaze on Zeke. Fitz abandoned his pants and stepped forward. They crashed into each other in the middle.

Laughing Fitz steadied her with his hands, then reached up to zip her dress, while Olivia, with her back to him, managed to do up his pants.

"Woah!" Zeke did a double take.

"You saw nothing." Olivia warned.

"Hell no, that was some move I just did not see happen." Zeke laughed, as Olivia sashayed forward again. Then he turned to Fitz and said, "C'mere, bro!" He hauled Fitz into a one-armed hug and grabbed his hand for an advanced version of the 'homie handshake' which left Fitz fumbling.

"Man, if Professor Pope hadn't told me about your past, I'd never know from your moves that you were anything but white."

"Hey, don't knock my moves. Liv knows I've got great moves."

"He does," Olivia nodded, earning herself a kiss on the temple as Fitz slipped his arm around her shoulders. They made their way downstairs, still teasing each other. Then Zeke said, "The Prof tells me the media is going to release the story."

"Yes, it was considerate of them to give us a heads-up before they did," Olivia said drily. "Whether we like it or not."

"What's not to like – all them thugs in white hoods will have an aneurism trying to figure out what the heck this all means. Their worst fear is that a black man will lay down the law from the White House, and here we have Fitzgerald Grant, who's snuck right past the guardians at the gate, a black man in white face."

"Worse, this is the first time in American history that two black men will be on the Presidential ticket." Fitz murmured.

Olivia looked at the two of them, and giggled.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Media Panel Discussion on Trash TV Show<strong>_

"_The news today that the white President of the United States is actually a black man—"_

"_Let me stop you right there. Having one black ancestor is like having one sixteenth Native American on a college application to catapult yourself into the quota system. It doesn't mean anything if you've never set foot on a reservation and don't know the difference between a tepee and a tutu."_

"_So you're saying if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck? I'm curious, have you had your genealogy traced?"_

"_I don't have to. I know my folks came here to escape the potato famine. My pappy was white, so was my grandpa, and his father before him. I'm white. There's no question about that."_

"_Evidently our President thought so too…"_

_**Media Panel Discussion on Political Talk Show**_

"_I mean when you really look at it. Race is a social construct."_

"_Are we saying that because we don't want to think of the President of the United States as black or is this finally a 'Hallelujah, Praise the Lord' moment?"_

"_I believe Noel Ignatiev illustrated my point in his book 'How the Irish became White'. The Irish were considered the 'blacks of Europe', they were even referred to as 'white negroes' here in America."_

"_But when the white race was created, they lobbied to be included in that privileged class. They took part in the oppression of the Africans in order to raise their status."_

"_Yes, they lobbied to be white, which means that whiteness is achieved, not inherited, proving my point that whiteness as a race is a social construct."_

"_Well, Fitzgerald Grant was an Irish American until we found his great-great-I-don't know-how-many greats granddaddy was a black man. So what race would you call him now?"_

"_American…"_

_**Media Panel Discussion News Network**_

"_It looks like President Grant has taken a hit in the polls with the revelations that his ancestors are black."_

"_Last I heard it was one guy – Joseph Gunta. And the reactions have been mixed at best, even among black people. There are some who believe it's great that a black man has finally made into the White House, and others who aren't happy that he still has to look white to get the job."_

"_Tagging people as black and white is a problem when you realise we're a tapestry of humanity. I have an Afro-Carribbean, Nordic-Mexican and Native American heritage. This should be a good wakeup call to those of us who like to put humans into colour-coded toy boxes and assign privilege accordingly, because we're assigning something as important as privilege and access to something as indistinct and factually non-existent as race."_

"_Well, what you're arguing is that as race does not exist, racism should not exist. In fact, many are arguing that racism is no longer a valid argument for maintaining sections of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 which was passed to address issues of racial discrimination in voting. Some of our best legal minds have argued that Section 4 and 5 are unconstitutional because they target certain states to seek federal approval before making changes to election or voting laws. That law is 40 years old, it doesn't recognise racial progress or the multiracial aspect of our country today."_

"_And here we are, 40 years later, with a white President taking a hit in the polls because the racists suddenly found out he's got one black ancestor in his family tree. And we have a pending trial of a white cop killing a black child, for no other reason I can see other than race…"_

* * *

><p>Making their way to the meeting with the Security Chiefs, Fitz muttered, "They're focusing on my blackness, and not your whiteness."<p>

'I'm not white, Fitz. If Perry had been alive today, I doubt he'd have admitted to any kinship with me. Betsey was property to that man, nothing more, nothing less."

"He was a Patriot."

"A Patriot who bought his women and sold his children. The only family I'd like to admit to is Betsey."

"Yes, ma'am," Fitz murmured, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

After the Cabinet meeting that followed, a working lunch with the economic advisors, and a call from the head of the African League of Nations, Fitz escorted Olivia to the couch for her scheduled nap under his watchful eye. Instead of going back to his paperwork as he usually did, he crowded in beside much to her delight.

"Do you remember that time when Cyrus walked in on us when we were like this?"

"I don't want to talk about Cyrus." He kissed her nose. "Tell me how you see me, Liv."

"Is this a Sally Hemings, Thomas Jefferson question?"

"Except I'm Sally, and you're Thomas."

She laughed. "You can't claim that."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"I'm from good African slave stock and you can't yell at me anymore over lullabies."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can." Then seeing him about to argue the point, she said distractingly, "Time Magazine called. They want us on the cover of their next issue."

"In the nude?"

"No, not in the nude," Olivia said repressively.

"Maybe I can issue an executive order."

"You are not going to issue an executive order for us to be on a Time cover, naked."

"I know you're taking that tone with me because I'm black."

"What tone? I'm not taking a tone, and you are white."

"Once you see my homie handshake, you'll see that's a lie."

She laughed again. "Zeke said you still need practice."

"I need to have a word to my bro. I thought he had my back, we being brothers in the hood and 'all."

"Stop! You're worse than Jerry!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Media Panel Discussion on Trash TV Show<strong>_

"_It's a disgrace, that's what it is! Naked. In the Red Room of the White House, what were they thinking?!"_

"_Sales. The magazine sold out on newsstands within an hour and I hear their website crashed."_

"_Crashed! We need to throw bleach on the damn thing and set it on fire!"_

_**Media Panel Discussion on Political Talk Show**_

"_It's not the most controversial cover that Time has done. They did put 26-year-old Jamie Lynne Grumet breast feeding her 3-year-old son in 2012. In 1996, they asked 'Is God Dead?' and in 1939, named Hitler 'man of the year'. This seems almost tame in comparison. All we can see is the naked backs of President Fitzgerald Grant and First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant as they stand side-by-side with her arm around his waist and his arm around her shoulders, facing the American flag."_

"_Naked backs? Don't you mean naked butts? They may be the finest pair of butts I've seen in print but it's not how we're used to seeing our First Couples. Where's the suit and tie, the dress in eye-popping pink or royal blue? We're conservative Christian America, not the bloody French!"_

_**Media Panel Discussion News Network**_

"_So from all the buzz on social media, people are outraged a) because patriotic Americans didn't die to have naked people looking at the flag; b) because Conservative Christians don't like to think of married couples getting naked; c) because the word 'black' under President Grant and the word 'white' under Mrs Grant is not the kind of conversation we need to be having right now with the state of the economy the way it is."_

"_You know if it wasn't the economy, it would be something else. We just don't want to talk about race in this country. Because if you start talking about it, then you have to do something about it. No, it's much better to get upset over the flag. But I have to say the comments on Jerry Grant's social media pages have been supportive and encouraging."_

_"I know they have to be, because the Secret Service monitors the crazies and haters, but those pictures are a blast! He's got everyone reading the magazine, even the dogs!"_

"_My favourite is Professor Pope reading the magazine with a brown paper cover. That one has likes from the leaders of South Korea and Iran. I think the Grants have set a new standard for international diplomacy..!"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Excerpts from the Thousand Words behind the pictures<strong>_

President Fitzgerald Grant: _It's an interesting situation to realise I didn't really know who I was. Evolutionary biology has proven that we all came from Africa, but I didn't realise my closest African kin was a lot younger than Lucy…_ _Joseph Gunta, came to this country as a servant and he died a slave. He was black but I have lived almost my whole life believing I was white. The freedom and liberty he was denied until his dying breath was a privilege I have taken for granted. BTW, that wasn't a pun on my name. As a citizen, I never felt I couldn't get what I wanted if I tried hard enough. I have never had any doubts that I belonged, that I had rights, that I was accepted… Yes, it surprised me to learn there are men and women today who will not vote for me because I'm black. To them, I say, I am the same guy I was last week, and the week before that, and the election before this one. I haven't changed; what has changed is your perception of me, and that change is a result of your prejudice. The kind of prejudice my wife, Olivia, who is beautiful, brilliant and strong has had to battle with her whole life, even though her forefather, Andrew Perry was white…_

Mrs Olivia Grant: _Andrew Perry doesn't change the fact that I am black. Or the fact, that he helped maintain the institutions of racism that affect the lives of black people to this day. Perry fought for the American Revolution which allowed Southern Landowners the right to keep slaves under the Three-Fifths Compromise. He was a slave owner who fathered children into slavery. He was a father who didn't care about the plight of his children in a world he helped create. The Irish who arrived in America to escape persecution in Europe, lobbied to be white. They fought for the right to discriminate. Actually they did worse. White fathers wanted a better world for themselves at the expense of their black children…I can honestly say that Fitz is not like that. He may not know what it's like to live in my skin, and having Joseph Gunta as an ancestor, isn't going to change that, but he's trying to do the best by his family and his country. I don't think you have to be a polar bear to know that we need to do something about melting ice caps. I think it's wrong to assume empathy is only possible if we have a biological or cultural connection. Fitz feels deeply for us, all of us, and the future our children will inherit. That's why I wouldn't trade him for the world; why he is and always will be the love of my life… _

* * *

><p>"<em>You wouldn't trade me for the world… I am the love of your life<em>…" Fitz read from the magazine that was beginning to look a bit worn from all the handling. "I'm getting this framed, and copies will available in all 132 rooms of this house."

"Aargh!" Olivia groaned pulling a pillow over her head.

"Hey," Fitz peered over his reading glasses. "I'm reading this for the benefit of our child. So she knows the next time you yell at me, Mommy doesn't really hate Daddy. Okay, bub?"

Olivia made another indistinct sound under the pillow.

Fitz removed his glasses and placed them on the magazine on top of the night-table, before he sidled down to kiss Olivia's baby bump, then moved up the bed and burrowed under the pillow to grin at Olivia. "Hi."

She giggled as he tossed the pillow aside, before kissing her. Then he kissed his way down her throat, over her shoulders, along her arm to the tip of her breast, very very slowly. And just when she was beginning to think he intended to take this to the next level, he settled his head on her breasts, clearly intent on sleep.

"That's it?" Olivia tickled the side of his jaw. "I was expecting fireworks."

"You have to take a raincheck on fireworks, I'm exhausted."

Olivia ran her fingers up the back of his neck into this hair. "Do you know you look very sexy wearing nothing but your reading glasses?"

"I knew you had a thing for old men." Fitz mumbled against her skin.

"I do not have a thing for old men. Besides you're not old. You don't look a day over 65."

He raised his head with a frown.

She grinned.

He eyed her solemnly. "You're just going to keep teasing until I give you what you want."

"Yes," she chuckled naughtily. "Unless you want me to send out a booty call over the innernet."

He surged forward, balanced on his arms, to give her a hard kiss. "Don't even joke about that. Or I'll banish you to an island where only I know the location."

She wound her arms around his shoulders. "Hmm, I'll have to smuggle a spoon big enough to dig myself out of there, through a subterranean tunnel."

"No spoons. You'll only get a plastic spork." He kissed her again, before sitting up and lifting her onto his lap.

"Sporks! I hate those," she protested, as he eased her back against his chest.

"Too bad." He buried his face against her throat making her gasp. "You should have thought about that before you went on the Innernet..."

* * *

><p>Later, much much later, when they had settled down to sleep, Fitz stopped kissing the side of Olivia's sated face, when she said drowsily, "Rolling Stone wants to do a cover with us."<p>

"In this position?" he asked wickedly.

She laughed softly. "Can you imagine my Dad getting an eyeful of that?" Then she angled a look at him. "But you know there's been a sudden influx of 18-24 year olds registering to vote after the Time cover. Maybe Rolling Stone will attract the Woodstock and Cable television demographic and you'll be a shoo-in for a second term of office."

Fitz gave her a kiss on her cheek before rolling away to switch off the lamp. "That wasn't my goal in agreeing to do the Time cover."

Olivia switched on the lamp on her side of the bed. "What was your goal?" she asked, looking at him intently as he lay on his back, his eyes closed.

Fitz placed an arm over his eyes, and didn't reply.

She reached over to lift his arm from his face. "Why did you do it?"

He kept his eyes closed, but he was smiling as he murmured. "I wanted to see you naked in the Red Room." When she started to laugh, he insisted, "It's true. I'm intent on fulfilling as many of my naked fantasies as I can before we leave the White House."

Olivia's laughter subsided but her gaze remained soft as she combed her fingers through his hair. "You'll be a great jam-maker. We could make our brand 'The Naked President'."

That made him laugh. Then he opened his eyes and smiled. "I'm calling my brand 'Olivia's Jam'."

"You can't!" she scolded, giving him a playful smack before shifting away to turn off the lamp.

"I can." He rolled over to wrap himself around her. "I'll even let you market it over the 'innernet'…"

* * *

><p>In a remote cabin, on the edge of a lake on a ranch in Georgia, five people sat around a table.<p>

Hollis called it 'Defiance – the second coming'. Sally's frown did nothing to change the title.

"So are we ready to take this show on the road?" Reston looked around the table.

"Don't look at me," said Mack. "I'm just here for the ride."

"Yes, let's do it," Edison said, and smiled.

* * *

><p>AN: I realise that a lot of you are unhappy with me using Fitz as the whipping boy for the ills of racism. Is it fair, even racist, to use and abuse Fitz like this. No and yes, in that order. But do I feel bad about it – no. Fitz is a fictional character. Black people being murdered – that's real.

Should I temper my continuing outrage on the latter by sparing the feelings of fictional Fitz? I didn't even pause to consider it until I read your reviews. Actually I don't have a lot characters to play with in this regard. Then I wondered on whom should I heap my frustration – mad Republicans like Sally or sanctimonious Democrats like Reston? Why should handsome, sexy, Olivia-loving, Leader of the Free World Fitz be spared? If we only hold the people we dislike accountable, that's a whole lot of people we like who get a free pass to sit on their hands and avoid changing the system.

I'd like to share a personal story if I may. It's about my mother.

In 1983 Sri Lanka had 'communal riots' after 23 Sinhalese soldiers were killed by Tamil Tiger terrorists in the North of the country. The Sinhalese majority retaliated against the Tamil minority in Colombo (the south of the country). I am Sinhalese. So is my mother. Our ethnicity makes up 74% of the population in Sri Lanka, the Tamils – 15%. This ethnic divide is based on language, culture and religion, but not colour.

During the riots, my mother broke a state-imposed curfew to make sure our Tamil friends and acquaintances were safe. To this day my Tamil and Indian friends tell of my mother arriving by herself, to yell at neighbourhood mobs in their front yards, armed with only her bag and umbrella.

A Sinhalese woman in one of the mobs, who many years later came to cook for us, told me she thought my mother was mad – I agreed. But my mother hadn't been scared because she recognised people in the mob; and the people in the mob who recognised my mother, didn't harm her because she was the 'crazy lady' who gave them work.

BTW, my mother wasn't the only one to take their horror and outrage to the streets. When I arrived in Australia, my Tamil neighbours told me, how (during the riots in Sri Lanka) their Sinhalese neighbours helped them over garden walls, hid them under beds and smuggled them in vehicles to safety. A reason that one Tamil at least insists on buying at Sinhalese-owned shops, instead of the better-stocked and cheaper Tamil shops in her suburb.

A lot of Sinhalese it seems did what they could to help the Tamils. Of course there were many more that didn't and it was a terrible time for Tamils (and their supporters) who lost their lives and loved ones, because homes and shops can be rebuilt and have been but lost live remain forever lost.

The riots (and the overlapping war) of course were a lot more complex than a murderous fight between the Sinhalese and Tamils. The Tamil inspector who lived in the next street was stabbed to death because he took bribes (according to my mother), the only cinema in our neighbourhood was burnt to the ground because it rarely showed Sinhalese movies, while Tamils ones went late into the night and were so loud that people couldn't sleep (according to a mob participant). And one of my father's school friends - a Tamil - who gave poor people (both Tamil and Sinhalese) to eat free from his shop, saw the people he'd fed (both Sinhalese and Tamil) in the mob that looted and destroyed it. And I realised later seeing the burnt shells of two- and three-storey homes, that they had been destroyed by people crowded into a corner of the street, in one room shacks with no electricity; sharing a street tap for drinking and bathing between 25 families.

Whatever their reasons, the soldiers deaths at the hands of terrorists was an excuse for people to take out their grievances (real or imagined) on their neighbours, knowing they would never be held to account for their actions.

I also want to assure any of you reading this, that my mother is not a superwoman – she has many, many flaws and is also full of prejudices (which includes an antipathy towards the Tamil aim – irrespective of whether they achieve this by dialogue, propaganda or violence - of dividing Sri Lanka into separate countries based on ethnicity). My mother is also a younger sister, and she got yelled at by my aunt for breaking curfew which gives the police and army the authority to shoot anyone on sight. And my mother is – well, a mother - a fact my father gently reminded her of, when he called from overseas (where he worked) to check if we were all safe.

Yet in that moment - in another awful tragic moment in my beloved country's history and a 30-year civil war that ended in 2009 - my mother (and those like her) showed me that (despite our prejudices, our other responsibilities, and people's perceptions of our lack of sanity) we must never stand helpless when injustice is happening before our eyes. That we must strive to make our lone voice heard above the mob whenever we think it is necessary. Whether it's #blacklivesmatter or #cecilthelion or #both and #more.

The sphere of my mother's capacity was our neighbourhood. What is the sphere of capacity for a President in a fictional story, if I give him enough reasons to be as outraged as my mother? So, I'm sorry, but I don't want to give the white President in my fictional story a pass on his feelings (and if I were to be really honest, I don't want to give the real-life black President a pass on this either). Whenever I hear President's Obama's policies now, it's like seeing Oprah give her 'Favourite Things' to a mostly white audience, which included people from Australia.

I'm also sorry to have to break this to some of you after 50 chapters that the core of this story is politics. I've just hijacked a romance to camouflage it. It's the Olitz romance and family dynamics that stop me writing the horror story that actual politics deserve.

References:

The Voting Rights Act remains intact in this story – however section 4a which protected minority voting rights was struck down by the US Supreme Court in 2013.

The supreme court guts the Voter Rights Act … since racism is over - Ana Marie Cox (The Guardian)

The US supreme court thinks racism is dead. It isn't - Gary Younge (The Guardian)

The Black and White ancestral storyline was inspired by the following:

Obama Has Ties to Slavery Not by His Father but His Mother, Research Suggests (NY Times)

Obama descended from slave ancestor (Washington Post)

In First Lady's Roots, a Complex Path From Slavery (NY Times)

First Lady Michelle Obama's Irish slave owner roots (Irish Central)

13 Famous Black Americans Who Learned The Stories Of Their Slave Ancestors (BUzzfeed) - **Betsey in this chapter is based on Condoleezza Rice's actual ancestor who was sold as a 4 year old for $450, and who did live to be 100 years old according to this article.**

Man Fired From Ku Klux Klan For Being Part Black is Suing for Racial Discrimination (Outhouse Daily)

Irish-Americans, Racism, and the Pursuit of Whiteness (Racism Review)


	51. Sting in the Tale

** This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Hollis Doyle returns…<strong>

When Hollis Doyle walked into the corporate offices of Feinsch, Groucho, Landry and McGuinness PLLC, a couple of people fainted.

While they were being revived, the senior partners – who could only be pried loose from their wood-panelled corner suites with panoramic views, if there was an actual fire – ushered Hollis into the executive meeting room and stared for several long silent minutes.

Finally one of them said, "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck."

"Are you waiting for a gotdamn quack?" said Hollis.

"Okay, I'm convinced," said one.

"The drawl and the sarcasm sounds about right," said another.

Hollis cackled. "Damn straight - ain't no other gator in these parts with a bigger bite."

"That sounds like something Hollis Doyle would say."

"I keep tellin' yer, I am the man."

"We thought you were dead."

"The dead shall rise, gentlemen. The dead shall rise."

"I need a drink," one of the partners muttered.

"It's only ten in the morning." His colleague raised a brow.

"I've seen a dead man walk into our office - if that's not reason enough for a drink, hell if I know a better one."

Once the men were seated around the table, drinks in hand, still staring at Hollis, the conversation resumed.

"So I take it you want to get your fortune back?"

"All in good time. I've got me a bigger fish to fry."

"Oh."

"I want to sue the President."

* * *

><p><strong>Hollis Doyle's has a Psychiatric Forensic Interview<strong>

"Look, Doc, I see you looking at me like I'm a few pickles short of a barrel, but I ain't crazy."

"Is that your first impression of the people you meet - that they think you are in your own words 'crazy'?"

"I ain't talking about meeting people. Right now, I am in this room with you and I get the feeling you think I'm crazier than a bullbat because I want to sue the President."

"Why don't we start from when you disappeared? What do you recall?"

"I recall getting into my private jet."

"Do you remember the date that you took the flight?"

Hollis gave the date and time.

"How long do you think before you woke up?"

"It felt like I'd been gone a fair while. I had an itch in my beard I couldn't scratch."

"What else do you remember?"

"I recall waking up strapped to a bed like a hog on a roasting spit, staring at a screen showing my beloved family speakin' ill of the dead."

"How did you feel watching your family speak candidly about how they felt about you?"

"Lower than a gopher hole. But didn't surprise me. All they ever wanted from me was me money."

**Half an hour later…**

"Mr Doyle, can we turn our attention to the President. You mentioned earlier that you would like to sue the President."

"Yes."

"Can we talk about the reasons you'd like to do that?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"Well, doc, I don't need word to get out there, warning Fitzgerald Grant about the rocket I'm going to send up his ass before my day in court."

"So you're saying this information will come as a surprise?"

"Listen, Doc, Fitzgerald Grant made sure I was as good as dead. I sure hope to hell that man gets a _surprise_ when he learns I ain't dead, and I have no intention of staying dead!"

"You mentioned the President by name. You know him well enough to be on speaking terms?"

"Hell yeah, we're on _speaking terms_, which is why the man and his wife came to my memorial service."

"Would you say that before your untimely and seeming demise, you were friends?"

"Hell no, we weren't friends."

"How well would you say you knew him?"

"We were fishin' buddies – he wanted to go fishin' for any excuse to bomb that factory, I brought him the catch he was looking for."

* * *

><p><strong>The Law Partners Meet in Private<strong>

"The psychiatrist doesn't think Hollis is crazy, says he's a high-functioning psychopath but not mentally unsound."

"Is the man a quack? Where'd you find this bozo? Any layman can tell you that a homeless bum who shows up wanting to sue the President is batshit crazy."

"We need a second opinion."

**The Law Partners have a Second Meeting in Private**

"The second guy basically agrees with the first."

"Now, what do we do?"

"We're going to sue the President."

"What are you out of your mind? We need these shrinks to check you out – we're not going to sue the President."

"Let's call in the criminal investigators. See what they say."

**The Law Partners have a Third Meeting in Private**

"The detectives think we're on to something. Doyle's private jet made a re-fuelling stop in LA, and then air traffic control couldn't make radio contact with the pilot."

"Did the guy have a heart attack?"

"The team thinks the jet may have been using drone technology."

"Drone technology? Speak English!"

"Flown by remote control."

"They know this for sure?"

"The investigators got hold of the crew on the industrial fishing vessel, who witnessed the accident. Those guys say they didn't see anyone bail before the jet blew up."

"Where does the President come into it? I don't see the connection."

"Hollis said the President hired him to play fetch - fetch any excuse to help him bomb that factory, someplace in Africa."

"I still don't make the connection."

"What are you blind? It says that here in black and white."

"Just stop. Stop right there. We don't want to make this a race issue."

"Jeezus."

**The Senior Law Partner gets a phone call at his private residence in the middle of the Night**

"Who is this? Do you know what the hell time this is?"

He paused.

He listened.

Then he put the phone down and stayed awake the rest of the night.

In the morning, he walked into the office and told the other partners, "We're going to sue the President."

* * *

><p><strong>White House – Presidential suite.<strong>

"Mr President, I'm sorry to disturb this late in the evening, but I thought you should know – you've been sent a writ of summons by a man called Hollis Doyle. He's suing you on the grounds of inciting terrorism and destroying his livelihood."

"What?" Fitz gasped a laugh.

"My sentiments exactly," his lawyer responded drily. "It's probably another one of those crazies that I am sure you are very familiar with – except this one has good lawyers. But don't worry, we'll take care of it, sir. I'll send the details to the White House counsel to keep them informed about what's going on."

Fitz slipped his phone into his Tuxedo pocket as Olivia exited the bedroom in an off-the-shoulder lemon silk gown.

"I feel like a big rubber ducky, waddle, waddle, waddle," she grinned, coming towards him.

"A big _gorgeous_ rubber ducky," he murmured, taking her in his arms, making her giggle. "Where can I kiss you without ruining your makeup?"

"Here." Olivia pointed to a spot beneath her ear.

With a rogue smile, Fitz kissed the spot, then strayed to her neck and shoulder.

"Mr President," Olivia laughed, dragging his face away with both her hands. "Behave."

"Don't want to," he pouted, planting a kiss on her nose.

Laughing, she slipped out of his arms and reached for her evening bag. "So who was that on the phone?"

"The lawyers."

"The lawyers? What did they want?"

Fitz stared at her, ruminating.

"Fitz."

"Hollis Doyle is suing me."

"What?!" Olivia glared.

"It's okay," Fitz said soothingly. "The lawyers will take care of it."

* * *

><p><strong>Injunction by the President's lawyers – judge's chambers<strong>

"This is a frivolous matter, your Honour. There is no legal basis for suing a President while in office."

"Your Honour, it seems my esteemed colleague has forgotten the landmark Supreme Court ruling in _**Clinton v. Jones**_, which established that a sitting President does not have immunity against civil claims. Essentially, your Honour, the Supreme Court ruled that 'no American, not even an incumbent President, is beyond the law's reach'.

"Your Honour, the Prosecution has convenient forgotten that the verdict was based on the matters unrelated to a President's official duties. Ms Jones filed suit alleging an incident that occurred during Mr Clinton's time as Arkansas State Governor, as such the Supreme Court made a constitutional distinction that Presidential immunity did not apply retrospectively to a claim of civil liability before a President took the oath of office."

"The matter before us is of such importance that we cannot wait until the President leaves to bring the necessary criminal and civil proceedings against him, your honour,"

"Don't we have an election around the corner?"

"Uh, yes, your honour…"

* * *

><p><strong>Dead Man Sues President – comedy sketch<strong>

"_President Grant was among the mourners at this guy's funeral just a few months ago. Now the dead have risen – and the second coming of Mr Doyle hasn't been great for the President. _

_"Mr Hollis Doyle, he's the dead man, is suing the President for taking away his livelihood – which means the President is being sued for taking a man's life, by a man who is no longer dead. _

_"You know this has to be greatest Halloween story I've never told my kids."_

* * *

><p><strong>Olivia Pope Associates<strong>

Hollis Doyle's daughter and all his ex-wives were all talking at once in the OPA conference room.

"Why couldn't Dad stay dead?"

"Y'all know he'll want his money back."

"Dang it, he can't get his money, I've spent it."

"You've spent _all_ the money you got? Sheesh, it's only been a couple of months."

"Hey, don't you act all superior around me – I'm not collecting alimony from half a dozen geriatrics so I can run Beverley Hills' finest cat motel."

"Do you think he knows what we said about him at the funeral?"

"No, then he'd be suing us, instead of the President."

"It's not our fault. We thought he was dead. If you can't speak ill of the dead, when can you tell the world how bad he was and have them listen?"

"Dad isn't dead."

"What if it isn't Hollis, and Hollis really is dead?"

The women all stopped talking and turned to look at Hollis Doyle's fourth wife. Then they all turned to stare at Quinn and Abby.

The two women looked at each other, then at Hollis Doyle's wives and daughter.

"Uh, you want us to…" began Quinn.

"Sue Dad for being an imposter," finished Maybelle Doyle.

"_No_, we want to sue the man saying he's Hollis Doyle, for pretending to be Hollis Doyle," her mother corrected.

* * *

><p><strong>First Lady's Office<strong>

"So the wives want to sue Hollis Doyle for being an imposter?"

Olivia heard the grin in Fitz's voice clear across Washington Circle. Fitz was on his way to a community forum, while she was meeting with her own chief of staff and the rest of the First Lady's administration to delegate more tasks. "Yes."

"You don't think it's a good idea?"

"It doesn't matter what I think at this stage – we have six very determined ladies who want to discredit Hollis. That should be a good thing."

"Unless they prove that he's the real deal."

"I've thought about that. And, I think we need to increase security around Cyrus."

"I didn't know we had any kind of security around Cyrus."

"That's the protective detail for a Presidential Asset you signed off, a couple of weeks ago."

"Olivia."

"Gotta go, Kiss, kiss. Love you."

"_Oliv-_-!"

* * *

><p><strong>Dead Man's wives sue Dead Man – comedy sketch<strong>

"_You remember the story about the dead man suing the President? _

_"FYI, this guy didn't just die the way most people die these days in America – you know by calling 9/11 for death by cop. No, no, Mr Hollis Doyle "died" [rabbit ears] when his plane blew up over the Pacific. Pretty spectacular stuff. _

_"The best part is that the guy just walked away. He just walked away from that fireball and boy, is he mad. You know how I know he's mad – because when you get mad you look around for someone to li-ti-gate and guess who this guy picked – yeah, that's right. He picked the same guy the Democrats and Republicans are blaming for every gotdamn thing wrong with this country. Yep, you got it, the President of the United States._

_"But wait, the story gets even better, now the dead man's wives are suing the man for coming back! They are suing him because he didn't have the gonads to stay dead. _

_"This is no joke, folks. With that many women angry at you, you know this guy should have stayed dead wherever he was…"_

* * *

><p><strong>Hollis Doyle's family sues Hollis Doyle for impersonating Hollis Doyle<strong>

"So you're filing a suit of Identity Theft in the Second Degree against the man claiming to be Hollis Doyle."

"Yes, Judge."

"Has the defendant obtained or attempted to obtain any property or services to the value of or less than $1000."

"No, Judge, but the man has brought a civil claim against the President of the United States. The actions of this man who claims to be Hollis Doyle has lead to another person being falsely accused."

"That's a bit of a stretch. What does the defense have to say about all this?"

"Judge, Mr Hollis Doyle did not choose to die."

"I don't believe death a choice by the majority of deceased."

"Of course not, Judge, but the statutory period of 7 years wasn't observed in Mr Doyle's case. He was declared legally dead because the Medical Examiner believed the explosion of Mr Doyle's private jet was sufficient evidence to meet the legal definition of 'imminent peril'."

"Where have you been all this time, Mr Doyle?"

"I woke up on Skid Row, in Los Angeles, your hon – er, Judge. I was homeless."

"Did you try to make contact with your family?"

"No, Judge. I didn't think they'd believe me, considering how glad they were to see me dead."

"Judge, this man who claiming to be Hollis Doyle has the resources to make his fictional story more factual because Hollis Doyle's Social Security information became a matter of public record on the Social Security Death Index after he was declared dead."

"Judge, Mr Doyle was arrested by LAPD and we have an affidavit confirming that the fingerprints taken from my client match those on record for Mr Hollis Doyle."

"Are any of Mr Doyle's biological relatives in this room?"

"His daughter, Judge."

"Before I make a judgement on this case, I required a DNA report matching samples from the defendant and Mr Hollis Doyle's daughter."

* * *

><p><strong>Why Dead Men should stay Dead – comedy sketch<strong>

"_You heard about that guy in Ohio – Donald E Miller Jr – who was ordered to stay dead? _

_"I kid you not, the Judge ruled against the man's claim to be declared legally alive. Yeah, the Judge basically told the man, sitting there in his courtroom, clearly not dead, that 'yeah, I can see you're alive but as far as the law is concerned you have to stay dead'. _

_"Turns out you only have three years to change your mind about being dead. After that, the law goes - 'you're dead to me'. That's it. No ifs, buts or 'hey wait I am **alive'**. The law goes, 'meh, being alive and breathing doesn't count'.  
><em>

_"What I want to know is who makes these laws? You know, have you asked yourself that – is there like basic comprehension tests that legislators must pass before they makes these laws. _

_"Donald or Don as I like to call him, even though we've never met, was a deadbeat drunk who was declared dead 20 years after he went missing, and decided he wanted to be declared alive so he could get a bus licence. The poor guy, obviously didn't know there was a statute of limitations on the return of the Dead. Zombies need to hire a lobby group..."_

* * *

><p><strong>White House – Oval Office<strong>

"The man suing you has been declared legally alive."

Fitz looked up to see Rowan in the doorway. Olivia had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of a foot massage, with her feet still lying over his lap.

Setting the report he'd been reading aside, Fitz shifted Olivia's legs onto the cushions, careful not to wake her and motioned for Rowan to follow him out onto the West Wing Collonade. They stepped out to a chorus of cicadas chirping in the night.

"You've been following the case," Fitz prompted.

"It's not every day that you hear of a President being sued by a dead man. But I understand there's a mother of all catfights over Mr Doyle's estate, not to mention insurance companies lining up to recover compensation - it might have been in Mr Doyle's best interests to stay dead."

"Not to mention, mine."

"You know that Mr Doyle has no legal standing for his claim, so what's worrying you?"

Fitz glanced through the glass doors at Olivia. "This is not a good time for something like this to happen."

Rowan turned his gaze from Fitz to Olivia and back again, then said gently, "Let's take a walk. The night air feels good."

The two men walked down the columned walkway heading towards the open lawn, as Secret Service agents fell in step discreetly behind them.

They'd been walking in silence for several minutes before Rowan said softly, "My daughter is not as weak as you think."

Fitz's jaw flexed. It took several minutes for him to respond. "I've never thought of my wife as weak. She is the strongest person I know, but she isn't superhuman. She can't fix everything."

"Protecting you is her focus."

Fitz grunted, then released a heavy sigh. "I know."

The two men walked a bit further in silence. Then Rowan muttered, "Tell me how I can help." When Fitz swung his head round to stare, he added, "My daughter does not need to know."

"She'll find out."

"You will know how to handle it when that happens."

* * *

><p><strong>White House – Executive Residence <strong>[Several days later].

Fitz walked into the Family Room to see Karen and Jerry arguing over a plastic doll in Olivia's arms.

"You have to hold it like this," Jerry shifted Olivia's hand around the doll's head. "The head and neck needs to be supported."

"_It_ has a name; she's Rebecca," said Karen, "And she's my doll."

"Yeah, but you've never held a live baby. I have."

"Who was that?"

"You."

"Oh... Did you ever drop me on my head?"

"No," Fitz chuckled from the doorway. "But you peed on him once."

"Dad! I did not!"

"You did. After that Jerry would only carry you while wearing his raincoat."

Jerry made a face. "I always wondered about that. I looked really weird in Karen's baby pictures."

"What baby pictures?" Karen shot back.

"They're in my private study. Go see," Fitz encouraged.

Both kids stopped and looked at Fitz. "Are you trying to get rid of us?"

"MMmmay-be."

"Da-ad," Karen grinned.

"C'mon, PK, Dad just gave us an executive order," Jerry nudged Karen towards the door.

"PK?" Fitz queried.

"Pumpkin Karen."

"Ew!" Was the last thing they heard from Karen before Jerry managed to drag her out.

As the door closed, Olivia laughed. "Very smooth."

"So what's all this doll business?" Fitz murmured, slipping his arms around her.

"Our resident experts were showing me how to hold a baby," Olivia smiled.

"They aren't the resident experts," Fitz whispered, a smile ghosting his lips. "I am." He kissed her softly. "But it was cute watching you with them."

"Cute?" She drew back.

"Mm," he snuffled a laugh, coming in for another kiss. "Very cute."

As her fingers smoothed over his shoulders, she murmured, "You're smiling but your muscles tell me another story. What's going on?"

"The verdict is in."

* * *

><p><strong>Judge's Verdict in the Presidential Impunity case – points noted by lawyers<strong>

Issue: Extent of Presidential Immunity?

Verdict Essentials:

'Essence of civil liability' is to claim legal protection, with damages being the 'ordinary remedy for an invasion of personal interests in liberty' - _**Marbury v Madison.**_

Qualified Immunity: Presidential immunity is dependent on whether his actions are discretionary and within the guidelines of statute. _**S**__**cheuer v. Rhodes**_ - qualified immunity is available provided an executive acts within the scope of discretion and responsibilities of his office. (Lawyer's note – _**S**__**cheuer: **_civil suit against Governor of Ohio by representatives of four students killed at Kent State University in 1970. Held: public officials required to have qualified immunity to carry out their duties which involve the need to act 'swiftly and firmly'.

Scope of authority: _**Barr v Matteo**_ - scope of authority does not exclude unlawful acts if the purpose was authorised by either statute or the Constitution In _**Matteo**_, also held that executives are required to have immunity in order to carry out their official duties without spending all their time defending civil lawsuits at taxpayers' expense.

Nixon: _**Nixon v Fitzgerald**_ held by Supreme court in four to five ruling that the President of the United States, at the time – Richard M Nixon – was entitled to absolute immunity within 'the outer perimeter of his authority'. _**United States V Nixon**_ held President of the United States is subject to compulsory Judicial Process

Absolute Immunity: System of justice is based on the common law position of absolute immunity where a 'King can do no wrong'. As such absolute immunity granted under Article II, section I of the Constitution. President's actions subject to impeachment by House of Representatives and trial by Senate.

Conclusion: _**McColluch v Maryland**_ – in theory a President is elected by the whole nation, as such 'no one part of the nation should have the power to undo the decision of the whole'; the President should answer to all of the people through their chosen representatives

* * *

><p>Olivia placed the document back in the folder, then slipped her arms around Fitz. "He wants you to be impeached."<p>

"Yep," he kissed her temple. "I think that's where this was heading from the start."

She gave him a considering look. "You sound almost... relaxed about it."

He kissed her upper lip. "I love you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means - 'I love you'." He gave her another kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>Edison's Living Room<strong>

"That went according to plan," Reston's voice came over the phone line.

"Yeah," Edison smiled, stretched out on the sofa as he watched visuals of the evening news with the sound muted. "Now the tricky stuff begins."

* * *

><p>AN: Any mistakes relating to legal judgements and procedures (etc) are mine. Apologies. ;)


	52. Gathering of Vultures

** This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em><strong>A handful of influential Democrats were having a secret meeting behind closed doors<strong>_…

"We're going to impeach a United States President?"

"It's about sex. Just like Bill Clinton."

"You know that impeachment fiasco wasn't about sex. It was about Chinagate. The Republicans didn't have a smoking gun on the 1996 Campaign Finance scandal, so they caught him with his pants down."

"Such a shame. He just married that lovely little gal."

"We were talking about Clinton. Grant wasn't caught with his pants down."

"He wasn't? Then this is about China? I knew Grant was up to no good when he sent his wife over there."

"Grant sent his wife to China because we can't afford to fuck with the guys who own a trillion dollars worth of our national debt."

"Can we quit talking about China? This ain't about the Chinese. Grant is a renegade. He's doing his own thing. He's not accountable to any party, not any more. It's making the guys who really run this country nervous."

"So it's about money, but we're going to make it look like sex? Whose dress have we got this time?"

"There's no dress."

"If there's no dress how are we going to impeach the President?"

"Never mind how. Who's going to call for Grant's impeachment? The guy's popular as hell. Whoever calls for his impeachment can clear out their desk in the morning."

"It's okay. It's not going to be one of us. Edison Davis has someone else in mind."

"Edison Davis? That name rings a bell…"

"He was the senate majority leader until his stint in the Senate Intelligence Committee."

[Blank stare]

"He was Secretary for Homeland Security."

"Was that recent?"

"He was engaged to the President's wife."

"Oh him! Yeah, I remember him! So this _is_ about sex?"

"I told you this was about sex."

"Okay, so this time it's about sex, but we're going to make it look like it's about war."

* * *

><p><em><strong>A handful of influential Republicans were having a secret meeting behind closed doors…<strong>_

"We're going to impeach a United States President for going to _war_?"

"We can't impeach a President for going to war – that's his effin' job. Every single effin' President has taken us to war – you're saying they're all wrong?"

"Impeaching Grant for going to war would set a precedent – open the flood gates to all sort of allegations about war crimes. Do you think any of our Presidents will be spared? Then we'll have no one left to celebrate on gotdamn Presidents' Day!"

"What about trade? You think we'd get anywhere at the negotiating table if the other guys didn't know we could nuke 'em all in the blink of an eye?"

"Hang on, just wait one gotdamn minute – didn't you say this was about _war_? Grant hasn't taken us to war."

"That's the problem."

[There was instant silence]

"Wait. You're right, the bastard's been in office for four years and he hasn't started a single war."

"He's old school. Prefers diplomacy to military action."

"Old school? What the hell are you talking about? We've been at war for 223 out of 239 years since independence. War is _old school_."

"Yeah, we've never had a peace time President. Why start now?"

"The man is ruining the economy – we can't have a President who won't start a war, and keeps 'em coming."

"I'll bet Wall Street isn't happy."

"The _Cosh Brothers_ aren't happy."

"Oh, hell no, we can't have that."

"So we're going to impeach the President for _not_ going to war?"

"Yeah, but we're going to make it look like it's because he _tried_ to start a war."

"Can't we make this about sex? I can keep up when it's about sex."

* * *

><p><strong>First Lady's Office - East Wing<strong>

Zeke knocked on Olivia's door. "You decent?"

"Very funny." Olivia had been pacing the carpet, rubbing her belly. Now she opened the door wider for Zeke to enter. "Is there a reason you're here wasting my time?"

"Ooh nasty," Zeke chuckled, dropping a kiss on her head. "Looks to me like you've reached the cranky pants stage of your pregnancy."

"Fitz is avoiding me."

"He thinks you're taking a nap."

"He posted a Marine outside to make sure I don't leave the office until my doctor's appointment."

"I told the guy to take a break. Under Fitz's orders."

Olivia looked at him. Zeke grinned.

"Fitz won't be happy," Olivia giggled, tucking her arm through his.

"You gonna snitch on me?" Zeke smiled.

"Nope." She laughed with a shake of her head.

Zeke chuckled, then sighed. "What I'm going to say next is going to take that smile off of your face, and I'm not happy about that but you need to know - it's about your Uncle Tom." At Olivia's confused frown, Zeke added, "Edison Davis."

"He's not _my_ anything."

"But you ain't disputing that he's an Uncle Tom?"

Side-stepping that response, Olivia folded her arms across her chest, asking, "What's Edison done now?"

"He went down to Georgia for the weekend."

"Georgia? That's a big state."

"Not if you know where Sally Langston's ranch is." Zeke opened a file and spread a sheaf of photographs.

* * *

><p><strong>A Washington DC Espresso Bar [outdoor seating, semi-secluded]<strong>

Edison Davis smiled at Congresswoman Natasha Gains. There was something about her that reminded him of Olivia. Of course, he'd be the first to admit it was crazy, comparing Olivia to a tall blonde with blue eyes. But Gains had a reputation for getting things done.

Gains smiled back, after taking a sip of her chai tea latte with soy, lite water, 2% foam, extra hot. "So we're really going to do this?"

"Getting cold feet? You've never made it a secret that you had a thing for Grant."

Gains' smile turned bitter, "If by _thing_ you mean my unadulterated hatred for a man who tossed Melody Grant to the kerb, after he tried to gut the Constitution by stripping away our fundamental right to bear arms, I sure do have a _thing_ for that dirtbag."

"I knew I made the right choice."

Gains folded her arms across her chest. "Why me?"

Edison sat back, idly playing with the handle on his coffee cup. "You've been trying to raise your public profile by talking about the same things everyone else is talking about – gun rights, pro-life, smaller government. You're getting lost in the crowd. You need to stand out."

A laugh escaped Gains. "This will sure make me stand out all right but I don't think Rob will like it. He likes to fly under the radar."

"How is your husband?"

"Like a rock… around my neck."

Edison reached out and placed his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

Gains stared down at his hand, then turned her hand over and gripped his. "Rob's gone to New England to see his mistress. And I changed the sheets on the master bed this morning."

"Are you tempting me with clean sheets, Tash?"

"For starters." She smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Oval Office - West Wing<strong>

"Sir, we have something on Edison Davis, your former Secretary of Homeland Security." Tom walked into the Oval Office as Fitz was clearing his desk.

"You've been following Edison?"

"First Lady's orders, under operation 'better safe than sorry'."

Fitz gave a wry smile. "What's he done?"

Tom gave him a manila envelope. Fitz eyed him warily, then reached in and took out a bunch of photographs. "Who is she?"

"Congresswoman Natasha Gains."

"The Republican gun nut?"

"Yes, sir."

Fitz shoved the photographs back into the envelope, before dropping it into the bottom drawer of his desk.

"Sir, I was going to give those to Olivia."

Fitz closed the drawer with a firm click. "She's been through a lot in the last few days. I don't want her upset."

Tom hesitated again. "Sir, there could be something in it besides sex."

"I wouldn't be surprised, but I'd rather Olivia didn't find that out by seeing Edison with another woman."

* * *

><p><strong>Olivia Pope and Associates<strong>

Olivia stepped out of the elevator, flanked by Secret Service agents, to find Oscar waiting in the corridor to greet her.

"They're waiting in the conference room. Are you sure you want to do this?" Oscar asked, ignoring Olivia's security detail as he reached out to take her hand in both of his. "You know, Zeke would never forgive me if anything happened to you or the baby under my watch."

Olivia smiled, slipping her hand free and tucking it through his arm. "You worry too much," was all she said, as they headed towards the conference room where ex-Senator Edison Davis was staring at a Wall of Shame, displaying of his tryst with Congresswoman Gains, in A4-sized colour prints.

Abby, Quinn and Huck, who'd been glaring holes into his back, turned when Olivia and Oscar walked in. Instantly Huck sprang forward to pull out a chair for her, which she smilingly waved aside, while the two women shifted positions to stand between her and Edison.

Edison didn't turn around. Seeing his stiff back, Olivia murmured, "I'd like to speak to Edison in private."

"Not a good idea," Oscar muttered.

"I don't trust him," Huck added.

"It's okay. I'll be fine."

They left the room but didn't go far; standing just outside, crowding against the glass door.

Edison turned to Olivia as the door clicked shut. "What's the point of all this?" He waved a hand towards the wall. "Jealous that I've moved on?"

"She's married." Olivia observed conversationally.

"You're not my moral guardian, Liv," Edison bit out. "And you didn't let a little thing like 'marriage' stop you from chasing Grant's tail."

Olivia gave him a look that would have seared a lesser man. "Who you fuck isn't my concern, Edison, unless both of you are in some way getting ready to screw Fitz."

"Your language has improved since you married the President."

"I want you to know that if you destroy Fitz, I'm going to make your life a living hell."

"Are you threatening me, Olivia?"

"That's a promise."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a woman who's flaunting her indiscretions in my face."

"I'm pregnant, Edison. Fitz and I are married."

A look of anger passed briefly over Edison's face, then he smiled. "I'm happy for you, Olivia. Now we've caught up with how we've both moved on, I'd like to leave as I've got things to do and people to meet."

"Sally Langston and Sam Reston?"

For just a moment, Edison looked surprised, then the bland smile returned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Olivia reached for the photographs in her shoulder bag. Spreading them on the table surface, she murmured, "You were photographed driving out of the gates of a property belonging to Sally Langston in Georgia."

"I got lost on my way to a pecan farm."

"Did Sam Reston get lost too?" Olivia sifted out a picture of Sam leaving the ranch.

"That sure looks like Sam, but he's campaigning so that could be photo-shopped."

"I didn't think you and Sally were friends not after you asked her to step down as acting President when Fitz was in Roswell, New Mexico."

"We're not friends."

"Frenemies?"

"Like I said, Mrs Grant, I'm a busy man. If you're accusing me of something - spit it out. But it looks to me like you're fishing because you got nothing. So call off your puppy dogs, I'd like to leave."

* * *

><p>As Abby and Huck made sure Edison left the building, Olivia sat down slowly, realising for the first time that her hands were shaking.<p>

"Are you all right?" Quinn surged into the room. "Do you want me to call the doctor?"

"I'm fine." Olivia dropped her hands onto her lap.

"Drink this." Oscar appeared at her elbow with a glass of water.

"Then I'll need to pee."

"The toilets still work."

That made Olivia smile as she reached for the glass with both hands.

"Do you know what Edison's up to?" Quinn asked, pulling her chair close.

Olivia shook her head. "He's changed a lot from the man I knew."

"The man's an Uncle Tom, Liv," Oscar said. "Zeke knew Davis would try to get back at you on the down low from the moment he walked out of the White House."

The reference to the White House made Olivia get to her feet. "I should go before Fitz realises I'm not at the doctor's." She paused before adding, "I need a favour."

Oscar and Quinn didn't hesitate. "Anything."

"It's to do with Cyrus…"

* * *

><p><strong>Oval Office - West Wing<strong>

"I'm back," Olivia sang on entering the room. "Good news - I'm fine and the baby's fine."

Fitz turned slowly from his inspection of the Rose Garden to stare at her silently for a long moment.

"Fitz?"

"Olivia."

She gave a slight nervous laugh. "What's going on? You're acting weird."

He walked up to her slowly, then reached up and cupped her face. "Is everything really okay?"

The bright smile fell from Olivia's face as she burrowed closer.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, gathering her close.

"Just hold me."

She said nothing of her meeting with Edison.

And Fitz said nothing about the photograph of Edison leaving the OPA Building that was sitting in the bottom drawer of his desk.

* * *

><p><strong>Military Hospital, Bethesda, Maryland<strong>

Abby and Quinn met with James Novak in the visitors' lounge.

"How is Cyrus?"

"Asleep."

"Oh. He's going to live?" Abby sounded disappointed as she ignored Quinn's glare.

James nodded. "I don't want to stay away too long. What's the emergency? Olivia sounded worried."

"There are only two witnesses to what went down at the Diner that night. One of them has just returned from the dead," said Quinn.

"And he's willing tell a bunch of lies under oath," Abby sniffed.

"The only person who can contradict those lies is my husband."

"Yes."

"What does Olivia want me to do?"

Quinn told him.

James went pale, but eventually agreed. "Okay."

"Are you sure?" Quinn asked.

"Of course he's sure," Abby insisted.

A wan smile appeared on James' tired face. "I realise the choice is between the possibility of death or its certainty; I'll take the possibility."

Abby handed over the pills, while Quinn asked a second time if he was sure.

James wasn't. Even as he crushed the pills, and added the powder to the sludge of pudding that was on Cyrus' dinner tray while Cyrus was taking a potty break.

"How's Ella?" Cyrus asked hoarsely, making James jump. He recovered quickly helping to plump up the pillows as Cyrus climbed back into bed. Then added belatedly, "She likes her new nanny."

"Tell her I miss her."

"She misses you too."

"I feel better. They think I'll be able to go home in a few days."

"That's good."

"Will you be going back to Africa?"

James look at Cyrus. "We're married for better or worse."

Cyrus stared at him owlishly, then muttered, "I don't know what that means."

"I'll be staying."

"Good."

James tucked Cyrus in bed and read out the day's headlines in the politics section of the newspaper, by way of a bedtime story.

Cyrus' eyelids droop sleepily. In no time at all, he nodded off and started snoring. Then the snores stopped.

There was a moment's silence before the room erupted with emergency staff.

James was hastily moved out. He stood in the corridor listening to the crew trying to revive Cyrus. After several turbulent hours, James saw medical personnel emerge with defeated glances and shaking of heads.

"I'm so sorry." A hand touched his shoulder. James listened to the words, absorbing the sentiment while keeping a lid on his rising panic. "He was on the road to a full recovery."

"He had a bad heart."

"The post-mortem will tell us more. I guess."

James panic went into overdrive. "You're going to cut him open? Tonight? I mean, I wanted our daughter to be able to see him just like this one last time."

"It's late. Why don't you go home and get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Is it all right if I go down with Cyrus to the morgue? I, er, don't want him to go in there by himself."

There was a long pause, then a weary sigh. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p><strong>Hospital Morgue<strong>

James took hold of Cyrus' still warm hand, desperately feeling for a pulse.

"James, you can't be here, man. It would look suspicious."

James turned to see Huck standing by the doorway in a nursing scrubs. "Are you sure he's going to wake up?"

Huck nodded. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of him."

Reluctantly James let go of Cyrus' hand, kissed his forehead and left the room.

Hours later, Huck and Oscar were in the corridor tossing a coin about whose turn it was to go for a snack when Cyrus appeared in the doorway, his hospital gown half off his shoulder, his hair all mussed up.

"Where am I?"

Oscar had yanked out a dressing gown from the laundry basket he'd parked nearby. "It's okay, old man, we're going to get you home," he said soothingly as Huck lifted out a collapsible wheelchair. In minutes they had Cyrus all wrapped up and ready to leave via the exit, where all the Medical Waste industrial containers were lined up in a row.

* * *

><p><strong>Samuel Reston on the Campaign Trail...<strong>

Sam received a call from Hollis Doyle.

"The chicken's flown the coop."

"Is that a Texan way of saying the man is dead?"

Hollis pushed back the janitor's cap he'd stolen to go with the uniform he was wearing, as he turned to stare at the high-rise hospital building he'd just exited. "He ain't dead. He's gone."

After that call ended, Sam rang a 'good friend' in hospital administration to ask about the welfare of their 'confidential' patient, Cyrus Beene.

"It's the weirdest thing, the guy just upped and died. Took us all by surprise because he was finally on the road to recovery."

"When did he die?" Sam asked abruptly.

"Last night. And what's even weirder is that the body has disappeared from the morgue. He's done a Lazarus on us."

"Lazarus?"

"Yeah, the Lazarus Syndrome. When someone who's clinically dead, wakes up. The problem is the guy seems to have woken up and wandered off and no one seems to know where he's gone. Our security footage is missing from the time he was wheeled into the morgue…"

Reston's next call was to Edison.

"Cyrus has gone, as in disappeared."

"When?"

"Last night."

Edison sighed. "Olivia knows. But that's okay. We'll just work our way around this."

* * *

><p><strong>House of Representatives<strong>

_**Introduction of H. Res 6874**_

Congresswoman Natasha Gains thanked the Speaker of the House and the smattering of other representatives half asleep in their seats, before beginning her speech: "_I want to speak today about a matter of grave concern to the American people – the upholding of law and order..._

_"For the past few months, our attention has been on a little trial in Faraway County, a trial that pits the might of justice against the will of law enforcement. Our thoughts have been with a young man in uniform accused of killing another young man, a suspect in a crime. My thoughts are with the families of both victims, and the broader community. There has been outrage, there have been calls for justice, and a growing momentum to acknowledge that Black Lives Matter..._

_"It is a legally established custom for public officials to be judged differently to ordinary citizens. We have statute and case law that give law enforcement and public representatives a certain level of immunity in order to carry out their duties. Yet there has to be a limit to that immunity, there are certain actions that need greater public scrutiny, certain outcomes that need to be investigated and adjudicated in a court of law._

_"Today in Faraway County, there is a trial to judge whether a law enforcement officer acted within the law. Today in Congress, I see a need for a similar trial to judge those who make the law... _

_"I ask this House, are we to have one law for cops in uniform and another for the leaders of this great nation? Cops put their lives on the line every day, doing one of the most dangerous jobs in America but we as citizens expect them to uphold the law that they defend. In these circumstances, shouldn't we, as citizens and voters, have the same expectations of our legislators in whom we have placed our trust. To put in bluntly, should those who break the law be in charge of making our laws?_

_"That question needs an answer. It is with this intention that I introduce H-Res 6874 calling for an investigation into the Denyan and Manzania bombings and the Impeachment of President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III…"_

* * *

><p><strong>Screaming Headlines<strong>

_**Impeach the President!**__ : Speaking on the steps of Capital Hill, Congresswoman Natasha Gains said she called for the impeachment of President Fitzgerald Grant because the Black Lives Matter movement should include the lives of innocent Africans killed in the bombing of the US embassies in Denya and Manzania. Official reports put the death toll at 100 civilians, mostly African, with 2000 injured…_

_**A President's Right to Kill Questioned**__: President Fitzgerald Grant could face a Senate inquiry into the bombing of two US embassies in Africa. The car bombs that killed over a 100 people and injured thousands more, were blamed on the Warriors of Mass Destruction but Ms Gains claims she has new evidence that proves the President acted with 'malicious intent' to "intentionally mislead" Congress and the Pentagon on the need for "punitive action in order to take America to yet another war"… _

_**Congress to hold Senate inquiry to impeach**__**President**__: Republican Congresswoman Natasha Gains is accusing President Grant of having 'intentionally misled' the American public on the US embassy bombings earlier this year. Rather than the work of a Jihadist terrorist group, the culprit or culprits may be closer to home. According to the Congresswoman. In a six-page document, Ms Gains has accused the President of recruiting terrorists, presenting false evidence, cover-ups, and devaluing Black Lives in Africa…_

* * *

><p><strong>Sally Langston's campaign trail...<strong>

"It's done."

Sally didn't respond.

"Sally, did you hear me? Is this a bad line?"

"I heard you, Samuel." Sally splashed another finger of malt whiskey into her glass. She couldn't afford to get drunk; not when she would be speaking to a mass gathering at a televised Evangelical event that evening, but this situation called for a stronger brew than water.

"Looks like we might finally get our Nemesis," Sam continued.

"I do not share your confidence. Grant has been thrown in worse, and he's come out looking better than before. He's the Teflon King that nothing sticks to for long."

"This one might." Then in an abrupt change of subject, he asked, "Where are you?"

"In Alabama."

There was a pause, then Sam said, "That's a lovely little cabin you have by the lake."

"It was Daniel's little love nest. I wanted to burn it to the ground but I have never managed to find the time to do it."

"How is Daniel doing?"

"As well as your wife I dare imagine."

"Touche, Sally."

Sally merely drained her glass, and put it aside. "Well, Samuel, I believe this is the last time we will be on the same side. Once Grant is out of the picture, it will be a test of our mettle to see who gains the White House. I doubt we will be on such cordial terms then."

She disconnected the call in the ensuing silence.

* * *

><p><strong>Gentlemen's Club<strong>

Two men sat in two antique armchairs, smoking Cuban cigars while sharing a bottle of Russian Stolichnaya vodka.

"This is moving a lot faster than I imagined."

"There's a lot more money greasing the wheels."

"Did Reston come up with this plan on his own?"

"I don't think so. Edison Davis was mentioned."

"This Davis guy never quite goes off the radar, does he?"

"Nope. I've been keeping my eye on him since he left the White House."

"You think we have a winner?"

"Could be. Now we have a white President who's telling folks he's black, we might get away with having a real black guy as our next Presidential candidate. Makes us look progressive."

The two men chuckled, then sobered quickly, when the first speaker added, "But we need that dead duck Reston to get the electoral message first."

"I don't think we have long to wait."

* * *

><p>AN: The liberties I take with actual legal, medical and political procedures is Scandalous...! Let me know if there's anything glaringly wrong!


	53. Taking Down a President 101

** This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><em><strong>In the corridors of Capitol Hill<strong>_

"I do recall that you were against impeaching the President a few short months ago," The Senate minority whip observed wryly as ex-Senator Edison Davis fell into step beside him.

"There's more meat on this bone. It's not a trumped up charge of insanity because the man wanted to divorce his wife while in office."

"The official party line was PTSD."

"As evidenced by the fact the man wanted to divorce his wife. That's not a crime, but this is - a crime that falls under the High Crimes and Misdemeanor provisions."

"You're accusing him of being a terrorist, because he cooked up a bogus plot to start a war. Is the CIA aware that you're putting the boss on trial for their actions?"

"The CIA wasn't involved. This was a private contract. They're not happy that he went outside the usual channels."

"Ah, the vigilante angle. You'll focus on the fact that we have an approved system for overthrowing other people's governments and fucking up their economies; and that there'll be chaos if we start privatizing death and destruction to a bunch of mercenaries and bounty-hunters."

"Yes."

"I reckon it's a waste of money to kick a man who is already on his way out."

"He's popular."

"With a bunch of college students who don't vote, and minorities whose electoral boundaries have been gerrymandered so their votes don't count."

A muscle flexed in Edison's jaw but he kept on smiling. "Grant has a way of rising like a Phoenix no matter what gets thrown his way."

"If he rises from this one, he'll get a church built after him."

* * *

><p><em><strong>House and Senate Representatives hear from their electorates …<strong>_

"_You gonna let them impeach our President? What the hell is wrong with you people? Okay, sure the guy did turn his back on the party that got him elected, but that lunatic Langston detained him in New Mexico like he's some Mexican kid crossing the border to escape the drug wars. I mean what the hell was all that? Then she went and declared Martial Law like we're some gotdamned South American dictatorship made in the USA. We import tyranny, we don't install 'em for domestic use …" _

"_Listen Mister, I ain't wasting my dime and your time on pleasantries. What's all this nonsense about impeaching the President because he bombed a couple of embassies to start a war? This country was built on war. Our damned economy will not survive without war! The right to bear arms and shoot at will is enshrined in our Constitution! Hell, we've been killing dissenters and trouble-makers in the name of Democracy ever since Edward Bernays showed that fool Woodrow Wilson how to sell war to the public in the name of freedom…"_

"_I don't like war, the idea that war can achieve world peace is counter intuitive. You know I fought my country, I had no choice, it was during Vietnam, I was drafted before I could cross the border to Canada. Lost my legs and most of one arm. I can't get a job. I can't sleep. I've been homeless for the last twenty years. Then along comes this guy with his pretty little wife and I got a roof over my head. The First Lady's people even got me a job answering phones at a lost dogs home. That's where I'm calling from… my boss wants to have a word when I'm done..."_

"_If you impeach the President, I want the ten dollars I paid to your campaign contribution. Oh, you trying to give it back like it's nothing? Well, let me tell you something – all I could afford to feed my kids was cereal and soda that week. Now you're wasting my cash getting rid of the guy who wants greedy bastard bosses in their big, shiny corporate offices to pay us decent folk a living wage. How many of them have even heard of you? You think you gonna survive without folk like me?…"_

"_I haven't been writing cheques to keep you in office all these years, so you can now turn around and impeach a President on the Cosh Brothers say so. I always knew those boys would be trouble, Bad blood: their father made his wealth off the Soviets, and their uncle joined Rockefeller in funding the Nazis with all that Eugenics 'Master Race' nonsense. We can't let them ruin the country any more than they have already…"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dissenters meet on Capitol Hill with key supporters of the resolution to impeach President…<strong>_

"I don't know about Grant, but it sure looks like I'll be out of a job at the end of all this."

"We are the people's representatives, not the people's puppets – the right to bear arms and defend the security of the American people does not mean we have the right to unilaterally explode bombs in other sovereign nations."

"Save your speeches for the Security Council, asshole! We can bomb whoever we gotdamn like and everyone knows it! But I depend on the minority vote. I can't look like I wanted the President to bomb Africans in Africa, when we have cops shooting Africans dead in America on a daily basis."

"Blacks."

"Blacks, Mexicans, Indians – it's a gotdamned shooting range on our public streets."

"Bombing defenceless countries is what our economy depends on. We've been doing it since WWII. We pay guys to be terrorists so we can start a war in a country with an unfriendly government, we bomb these guys, then we get our friends to join our bombing campaign, and both our friends and enemies buy US weapons. In the process, we install a puppet regime that allows to carry out a perpetual war in the region, so we can steal their resources and keep dropping bombs."

"It's like gun sales increasing after a shooting massacre – Wall Street depends on this domino effect of escalating mayhem. And let me point out that starting a civil war in another country beats having one ourselves."

"Yeah, the only way we can make people more American is by breaking down all the systems that make them all so foreign."

"You're forgetting that Langston tried to do break down our systems too – she suspended habeas corpus, in addition to having the bright idea of making government assassinations and indefinite detention of American citizens legal."

"She was medicated by her gay husband. It wasn't her fault."

"That's always the white man's defence – drugs or the Devil made me do it."

"Oh here we go again. The race card. That's the black man's trope for everything."

"Will you quit that, damnit, we're talking about impeaching a President not, starting race riots in here!"

"You can't keep race out of this! That Gains tied this mess to the Black Lives Matter movement. She knows better than that! _No _lives matter when the greenback is involved!"

"You know what they'll be asking for next – reparations."

"The Manzanians and Denyans?"

"No, Blacks everywhere. We'll be bankrupt!"

"Oh you mean we'll get paid for 200 years of work with no wages! Well damn, that's the kind of redistribution of wealth I like!"

"Hey—!"

"Hey! Hey! Hey!"

[Scuffle avoided, members sit glowering at each other from across the table]

"Can we drop the race talk? Grant said he's black. He's a black man who got a hired gun to bomb American assets, killing several hundred black folk in Africa as collateral damage. There weren't any of us white folk involved... What? What's with all that eye-rolling?"

"The leadership of both parties support this resolution."

"Giving white folk the usual get-out-of-jail-free pass?"

"No! _No_! Impeaching Fitzgerald Grant!"

"And the CIA supports it too?"

"The CIA is turning on the President? The man is their boss."

"So we can bomb countries with impunity as long as it's commissioned to the CIA, which is on the Federal payroll. But not if it is a private contractor, who hasn't been approved by Congress.'

"That sums it up perfectly."

"All those in favour say 'Aye'!"

"""""Aye!"""""

"Motion approved."

"What about the 'Nays?"

"One 'Nay' noted."

"There's two, no three… wait four…!"

"The 'ayes' have it."

"This system sure is fucked."

"Tell that to your elected representative."

* * *

><p><em><strong>House Investigates<strong>__: The chairman of the house Judiciary Committee calls on the committee to initiate a formal investigation into the 23 articles of Impeachment__**.**_

"They want you out," Sam Broadhurst told Fitz bluntly on the golfing green. Sam's son, TJ Broadhurst had finished his internship at the White House and was now working on Wall Street.

"Who's they?"

"The Cosh Brothers."

"The Cosh Brothers?" Fitz stopped mid-put. "That explains the deep freeze."

"It's not as deep as you think, but the power brokers are in control."

"You're telling me I should get used the cold because there's no thaw setting in any time soon."

"Not even with global warming."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Impeachment Hearings Begin<strong>__: President Fitzgerald Grant responds in writing to the 120 questions submitted by the committee._

"It's brilliant when you think about it. Hollis set the whole thing up, and he knows exactly what evidence to present to make me look guilty."

"Are you enjoying this?" Olivia glared at Fitz, as they left the Roosevelt Room after the meeting with their legal teams and White House counsel.

He suppressed his smile. "No of course not. I was just admiring the strategy that's all."

"I don't know why I didn't see this coming," Olivia muttered, almost to herself.

Fitz halted abruptly, pulling her aside along the passageway before raising his hands to cup her face. "This is not your fault."

Recalling that brief flash of hatred on Edison's face, Olivia wasn't so sure.

* * *

><p><em><strong>House Rules: <strong>__Judiciary Committee sends a new resolution to the full house recommending President's impeachment under the __provisions for __High Crimes and Misdemeanors. The Committee has determined that impeachment is warranted three acts relating to breaking the law; abuse of power; and violations of public trust_

"Is Dad going to jail?" Karen asked at the dinner table, where yet again Fitz and Olivia were missing. Felicia was finishing a photo essay of White House artifacts for the Smithsonian.

"Impeachment usually means a removal from office. I don't think Fitzgerald will go to jail," Rowan said gently.

"What's a High Crime and Misdemeanor?"

"Whatever Congress wants to make it."

"But shouldn't a high crime be something really, really big?"

"Like dropping bombs on Africa?"

"Dad wouldn't have had anything to do with those bombs going off in Denya and Manzania; he's not a terrorist."

"He dropped bombs on Lushan."

Rowan turned in his chair to stare down Jerry, but Jerry refused to look up from his phone.

"Jerry, your father was keeping America safe by attacking the factory that was making chemical weapons."

That brought Jerry's head up. "Except they weren't making chemical weapons. The factory was making medicine for poor people. Some guy wrote to me, saying he can't afford medicine for his cancer after Dad destroyed the factory."

"Your father did not know that at the time he took action."

"Isn't Dad supposed to be spying on everyone? What's the point of that if he gets his facts wrong? _And_ I kind of like the argument that Dad isn't above the law just because he's President."

"A President can't function when his every move is questioned."

"That's what Kings used to say - you don't see many of them around, except when they're getting married or taking their kids out to meet the peasants. A President in a democracy has to tell people what he's up to because he's our representative. He represents '_we, the people_'; _we_ are his boss, and I know for a fact that _we_ didn't tell Dad to bomb that factory."

"Jerry, you don't vote," Karen muttered, sneaking away his phone.

"But he does make an interesting point," Rowan murmured, "A President is a representative of the people and he needs to answer to the people for his actions. Even though you and Jerry don't vote, his actions today will impact the world you inherit tomorrow. How do you feel about that? Do you agree with what your father did?"

Karen stayed silent for a long time, then admitted reluctantly, "I don't like what he did. But what if he made a mistake?"

"In that case, don't you think it's even more important that we look at how those mistakes happened? We need to see how those mistakes can be prevented in future."

"For the sake of '_we the people_'," Jerry muttered.

"It says here that we haven't really impeached a President to have him removed from office." Karen said looking at Jerry's phone.

"Yeah, when Dad gets impeached, that will be a first." Jerry took his phone back.

"_When_?" Rowan frowned.

"Okay, '_if'_," Jerry corrected.

"Did Uncle Cyrus have anything to do with this?"

Both Rowan and Jerry turned startled to stare at Karen, who kept her gaze steady, even as a blush crept up her neck. "Uncle James said Uncle Cyrus had done something really bad, that's why they had to go to Africa."

Rowan and Jerry looked at each other, then Rowan said slowly, "I see."

* * *

><p><em><strong>House Votes:<strong>__ A majority in the House of Representatives vote to impeach the President under three general categories: 1) exceeding the constitutional bounds of the powers of the office; 2) behaviour grossly incompatible with the proper function and purpose of the office; 3) employing the power of the office for an improper purpose or for personal gain._

"This is moving too fast." Olivia said, watching Teddy cycle around the Oval Office rug.

Fitz, seated on the edge of the Resolute Desk next to her, murmured, "It's a foregone conclusion."

"No one wants to throw us a lifeline."

"They don't want to sink with us."

"We're not going down." She turned to him.

He smiled, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Screaming Headlines…<strong>

_**Congress votes to impeach Grant:**__ In a surprising move the House of Representatives, controlled by the Republicans, voted to impeach their former golden child, President Fitzgerald Grant. Punters say the action is an indication of how much the President has lost favour with his former party since he began campaigning against party platforms on guns and defence spending_

_**They want him out: **__House Republicans have voted to impeach President Fitzgerald Grant. Political experts are saying this is a move to get rid of a popular President in favour of their unpopular candidate who is polling badly with moderate and liberal voters. _

_**House decides on impeachment:**__ Resolution to impeach President passes House of Representatives. The speaker has confirmed that the Articles of Impeachment have been passed to the Senate for an official trial…_

* * *

><p><strong>White House chief-of-staff's office<strong>

In the chief-of-staff office, Olivia paced the carpet, barefoot, with the phone stuck to her ear. "So the husband angle didn't work?"

"No," said Abby, "Let's just say sanctity of marriage is a novel concept for both of them. Her husband knew about her affair with Edison, but the guy doesn't care because he's registered on one of those dating sites for married people. But it's okay I can work with that."

"What have you done?"

"What makes you think I've done something?"

"I know you."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Abby, what did you do?"

"I felt a bit of publicity might help distract the Gains woman from whatever she's plotting with Edison. I told Huck to release the information to the public."

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, getting a bad feeling in her gut.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News…<strong>_

_Unknown Hacker releases account names and email addresses of upmarket dating site, Kendra Starr, a cheaters' club for married politicians and their wealthy spouses. Congresswoman Natasha Gains, who recently called for the impeachment of the President of the United States, has been caught up in the Scandal after details of her husband's account were released to the public…_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Edison's Office <strong>_

"Are you going to stand by him?"

"That depends…" Natasha smiled, tugging at Edison's tie.

"On what?"

"On whether you share my opinion that you and I make a great team - in and out of bed."

Edison smiled. " Divorce doesn't have the stigma it carried before, thanks to the Grants…"

Natasha laughed. "Ironic, isn't it…?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Olivia's Office<strong>_

Olivia sighed, staring at the media photographs of Edison standing in the background as Congresswoman Gains faced the media to announce her divorce.

Then feeling his presence, she turned to see Fitz leaning against the door jamb watching her. As their gaze met, he straightened, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

When he was close enough to touch, she murmured, "What's wrong?"

He stared at her solemnly. "I wanted to make sure you're okay… about Edison."

Olivia gave him a look half way between exasperation and amusement. "I'm okay. I'm even glad he's found someone. Or I would be if it was anyone but the woman who's trying to destroy you…"

He smiled, tugging her into the circle of his arms. "I almost believe you."

"Believe me." She tugged him down for a kiss.

When they parted, he drew back to study her face for a long moment, then with a spreading smile he kissed her again.

"You're not supposed to be happy at a time like this."

"When my wife has moved on from her ex?"

"When you're in the process of losing your job." Olivia lifted a hand to his cheek. "I don't think I can fix this."

Fitz rubbed his cheek against her palm. "I love you," he whispered. "And we're going to be okay whatever happens…"

* * *

><p><strong>Senate receives articles of impeachment from the House of Representatives<strong>

"We need to call Cyrus."

"No."

"Fitz, he's the only other person who knows what went down besides Hollis."

"No."

"This is not the best time to be stubborn."

"A man should be allowed to die in peace."

"Are we talking about Cyrus or your career?"

"Kiss me."

"Don't change the subject."

"Kiss me."

"No."

"Olivia."

"No–mff!"

* * *

><p><strong>Senate Proceedings: <strong>

- Notice that message received from House of Representatives by Senate Secretary, announcing impeachment of President and appointment of Managers

- Unanimous-consent agreement on receiving Managers and requesting the attendance of Chief Justice

- Exhibition of Articles of Impeachment Against Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, President of the United States

- Resolution by Senators to authorize taking photograph in Senate Chamber of swearing-in

- Appointment of escort committee to receive Chief Justice

- Administration of oath to Chief Justice and Members of Senate

- Resolution by Senators providing for issuance of summons to Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, President of the United States, and establishing trial procedures

- Rollcall Vote No. 1

- Writ of Summons

- Answer of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III to Articles of Impeachment

- Trial Memorandum of United States House of Representatives

- Trial Memorandum of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant

- Replication of House of Representatives to Answer of President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III to Articles of Impeachment

- Reply of United States House of Representatives to Trial Memorandum of President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III

- Presentation of case by House Managers

- Floor plan and seating arrangements in Senate Chamber for impeachment trial proceedings

* * *

><p><em><strong>Senate sets<strong>__**rules for Impeachment Trial,**__**to be headed by Supreme Court Chief Justice with House of Reps prosecuting and all Senators acting as jury**_

Olivia walked into the Roosevelt Room to find Fitz staring tensely at the White House Counsel and their private team of lawyers.

"What's wrong?" she asked, after closing the door.

Seeing that Fitz wasn't going to speak, one of the lawyers said abruptly, "Ma'am, you're on the list of witnesses."

"We'll object," Fitz said firmly.

There was a small silence, then another lawyer said softly, "It would be a pre-recorded deposition that would be conducted here at the White House."

"No," Olivia objected and for a moment Fitz looked relieved, until she added, "I'll give testimony live. I want the American people to hear what I have to say before my words get taken out context by soundbites."

* * *

><p><em><strong>In the Presidential limousine on the way to Friends of the Earth Benefit<strong>_

Olivia could feel his eyes on her. Without looking at Fitz, she reached over and took his hand.

"I don't want you to do this," he said gruffly.

She turned then, leaning closer to stroke his cheek with her free hand. "I'll be fine."

"Olivia."

"Fitzgerald."

He gave a snort. "You sound like your father."

"How did the question and answer session go? Did he have anything useful to add to the 300-pages we prepared for you?"

"Don't change the subject."

She blinked at him innocently. Then tugged his hand towards her belly. "Bub says 'hi'," she smiled.

With a soft groan, Fitz slid his arms around her, burying his face against her throat. "Don't be stubborn. Just once, can't you do as I say."

"No," she murmured, stroking her fingers over his hair. "In this fight, I need to show everyone that I'm so totally in your corner."

He drew back, his expression resigned, exasperated and tender.

Olivia smiled, sliding her arms around his shoulders. "I win."

He gave a grunt of laughter. "You're not cute."

"I'm very cute."

* * *

><p><strong>Back of a Bus<strong>

Mack looked at Hollis as they sat on the back of the bus. "I just figured out how rich people get rich in this town – they don't spend their money. Not on other people, that's for sure."

Hollis smirked. "They fear a gotdamn Commie invasion if they give a dime to a beggar. And Reston's riding on a lotta hope and goose grease to the Big House. He don't win, he'll be headin' straight to oblivion."

"Ain't that where we're going."

* * *

><p><strong>Abandoned Warehouse<strong>

Edison was waiting under the shell of a roof, framed by graffiti on the walls, and empty soda cans, used condoms and dead rodents on the floor.

"Nice place you got here," Mack murmured, as Hollis inspected corners.

"We're the only ones here," Edison said, ignoring Mack.

"I like to inspect all the amenities myself."

"You don't trust me."

"I was raised to hard to take chances."

Edison smiled. "Let's get down to business, we don't have a lot of time to waste."

"I'm done wasting daylight and I hear you have a bright new idea."

"We need a supporting act." Edison focused on Mack for the first time.

"You looking at me? Why you looking at me? This has nothing to do with me. I'm here to watch Hollis' back."

"What did you have in mind?" Hollis drawled as Mack swung round to face him, outraged.

"You're the main event but it's not enough of a smoking gun. We need the Denyan or Manzanian side of the story. I know you said you took care of the evidence trail-"

"Hell yeah, lessons learned from Jesse Tyler."

"Who the heck is Jesse Tyler?" Mack frowned.

"A greedy little punk who became buzzard bait. Taught me I couldn't afford to leave loose ends lying around to bite my ass."

"Even if your contacts in Africa were alive we couldn't bring them to the United States, now that the Feds have an alert out to detain any Manzanian or Denyan national. But I have a suggestion."

"Spit it out, so we can chew the fat."

Edison explained.

Mack gaped, then started shaking his head vigorously. "Nope, nope, nope. That's a crazy ass plan, any shit that comes down the pipe is going to hit me straight in the face."

"It's been done before."

"We're talking about a Senate Hearing, where a person testifies under oath. Yeah, I seen C-Span. I know the drill."

"What I'm suggesting has been done before." Edison said implacably. "A young woman called Nayirah gave evidence in 1990 to the Congressional Human Rights Caucus that she had personally witnessed Iraqi soldiers taking babies out of incubators and leaving them to die during the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. Turns out she's the daughter of Saud Al-Sabah, the Kuwaiti Ambassador to the United States at the time, and her evidence was part of the Citizens for a Free Kuwait public relations campaign run by Hill and Knowlton for the Kuwaiti Government. It's a classic example of atrocity propaganda."

"Yeah. She got caught lying."

"It didn't matter. The public bought the lie. Saddam Hussein is dead and we've been at war with Iraq since 2003. The end justifies the means."

* * *

><p><strong>In a Safe House at a secret location<strong>

"This is going to be something that comes back and bites us in the butt." Mack removed the headphones through which he was listening to a Denyan man speak English.

"You're actin' as scared as a sinner in a cyclone," Hollis called out from the motel bathroom where he was trying out various glasses and beards. "You ain't Mz Sally Langston. Start actin' like the Denyan star of this show I need you to be. I told you this was going to be the greatest actin' gig you'd get in your life."

"You save me from being a live target for an LA cop just so I'd end up on Federal terror watchlist. Maybe I should take my chances with that cop."

"The Feds will be looking for Stephen Mwangi. Not a guy who's been living on the streets."

"Why in God's name do I have to cut my hair? It's taken me years, _years_, to get it just the way I like it!"

"Well, damnit Mack, we all need to make sacrifices for the good of the country."

Mack stared at Hollis, who grinned. "Hey, I got your back."

"Sez the man who gets rid of evidence trails."

"You still here, ain't ya? That's always a good sign."

* * *

><p><strong>Executive Residence – White House<strong>

Gut instinct made Olivia pad barefoot into the living room to turn on the TV as she was brushing her teeth.

"_In the news this morning, James Novak, husband of former White House Chief of Staff, Cyrus Beene has been arrested. While the police haven't released information of the charges, official sources say Mr Novak is a suspect in the suspected murder and disappearance of his husband …!"_

"What?"

Olivia who'd been staring at the screen with the toothbrush in danger of falling out of her mouth, turned to see Fitz in boxer shorts, pause in the act of buttoning up his shirt to stare at the screen.

"Did they say that James has been arrested for murdering Cyrus?"

Olivia nodded, then swallowed absent-mindedly, before muttering, "I need to make some calls."

* * *

><p><strong>Client-attorney conference room, Maryland Police precinct<strong>

Abby and Quinn stared at a miserable looking James.

"This room is bugged," Abby murmured.

"Is Ella okay?"

"She and her nanny are at the..uh le Maison Blanche," said Quinn.

The others both stared at her in confusion.

"What? Do you want me to do Charades so you'll get it?"

Abby twirled her forefinger at her temple, looking at James.

"I'm not crazy," Quinn said primly.

James gave a wan smile. "I didn't want to involve the... uh boss... in all this."

"She's involved. What have you told the police?"

"Nothing."

Quinn and Abby exchanged glances, then Abby blurted, "The Boss says it's time to pull the joker out of the pack."

"No," James straightened in his chair. "I want the joker to stay in the pack. It's not safe. Not yet."

Abby and Quinn looked at each other again, then said, "We'll pass on the message."

* * *

><p><strong>Driving back to the OPA Building<strong>

"Did that conversation make you feel like we're part of the Mafia."

"Don't make me shoot you, Lindsay, I have my Glock in my bag."

The car swerved, and Abby screeched, _"Watch where you're going, you lunatic!"_

"_You carried your gun into the police station? Knowing that carrying a concealed weapon is illegal in DC? Are you insane?"_

"Don't shout at me! I'm protecting myself - the NRA says the only way we can all be safe is we have guns to shoot the bad guys. And if you'd read anything besides food labels on candy bars, you'd know that cops are the baddest of the bad guys."

* * *

><p>AN: Until next time...


	54. Two Trials in Tandem

** This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>World News<strong>

_The Senate Impeachment trial of President Fitzgerald Grant begins today only the fourth US President to face the possibility of a sacking while in the job. It is alleged that President Grant abused his powers of office in bombing his own citizens at the embassies of Denya and Manzania. He is accused of engineering the so-called terrorist attacks to distract from policy failures at home. The majority of people who died that day were ethnic Africans, and the question being asked now is – do Black Lives matter when they stand in the way of American interests, both national and personal…"_

**Local News**

_Overshadowed by the impeachment hearings of President Fitzgerald Grant III, the much awaited trial of a policemen who shot an unarmed civilian begins today in Faraway County. The cop is accused of racially profiling the 18-year-old, an African-American who was shot dead while walking home from the store. The question being asked now is – do Black Lives matter when a cop can shoot to kill without justified provocation…" _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Police on Trial:<strong>_

**Case Summary**: A jury must determine if the Police Officer used excessive force when he fired 8 shots at the victim, or whether his claims of using justifiable force can be substantiated, because the victim posed a deadly threat.

The 12-member jury has two people who are Latino, three African-Americans and seven whites. Eight are women and four are men. The alternate jurors are all white, and consist of one man and three women.

If convicted, the Police Officer faces three to 11 years in prison. He has been on paid suspension since the shooting.

"_All Stand for the Honorable Judge presiding over the People vs Officer involved shooting.'_

"_What is the charge?"_

"_Voluntary manslaughter."_

"_How do you plead?"_

"_Not guilty"_

"_So noted."_

* * *

><p><strong>President on Trial: <strong>

**Case Summary: **The President is accused of masterminding two deadly car bomb attacks on the United States embassies of Manzania and Denya, which killed 279 people, including 18 Americans, and injured 2684 mainly African embassy employees and civilians.

The Presiding Officer of the Senate directs Sergeant of Arms to proclaim_: __''All __persons are commanded to keep silence, on pain of imprisonment, while the House of Representatives is exhibiting to the Senate of the United States articles of impeachment against President Fitzgerald T Grant III.''_

Articles of Impeachment exhibited by the House of Representatives of the United States of America in the name of itself and of all of the people of the United States of America, against Fitzgerald T Grant, President of the United States of America, in maintenance and support of its impeachment against him for High Crimes and Misdemeanors:

**Article I: **

In his conduct of the office of President of the United States, Fitzgerald T Grant, in violation of his constitutional oath faithfully to execute the office of President of the United States and, to the best of his ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, and in violation of his constitutional duty to take care that the laws be faithfully executed, has prevented, obstructed, and impeded the administration of justice, in that:

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, in direct violation of the proper use of his authority, commanded a private contractor to recruit and train a group of unemployed youth in Denya and Manzania for the sole purpose of murder involving American life and the destruction of American property, while claiming the acts were committed by the Warriors of Mass Destruction.

By this one act, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant has undermined the integrity of his office; brought disrepute on the Presidency; betrayed his trust as President, and acted in a manner subversive of the rule of law and justice, to the manifest injury of the people of the United States.

Wherefore, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, by such conduct, warrants impeachment and trial, and removal from office and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honour, trust or profit under the United States.

**Article II:**

Using the powers of the office of President of the United States, Fitzgerald T Grant, in violation of his constitutional oath faithfully to execute the office of President of the United States and, to the best of his ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, and in disregard of his constitutional duty to take care that the laws be faithfully executed, has repeatedly engaged in conduct violating the constitutional rights of citizens, impairing the due and proper administration of justice and the conduct of lawful inquiries, or contravening the laws governing agencies of the executive branch and the purposed of these agencies.

The means used to implement this course of conduct or scheme included one or more of the following acts:

- Obstructed and deceived federal investigations in Denya and Manzania

- Threatened the life and liberty of a witness to such acts, that of Mr Hollis Doyle

- Used public institutions of justice and Federal investigation to silence the victims of his crimes and abort their attempts to seek justice through national and international frameworks.

In doing this, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant has undermined the integrity of his office, has brought disrepute on the Presidency, has betrayed his trust as President, and has acted in a manner subversive of the rule of law and justice, to the manifest injury of the people of the United States.

Wherefore, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, by such conduct, warrants impeachment and trial, and removal from office and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honour, trust or profit under the United States.

**Article III:**

Using the powers and influence of the office of President of the United States, Fitzgerald T Grant, in violation of his constitutional oath faithfully to execute the office of President of the United States and, to the best of his ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, and in disregard of his constitutional duty to take care that the laws be faithfully executed, has engaged in conduct that resulted in misuse and abuse of his high office, impaired the due and proper administration of justice and the conduct of lawful inquiries, and contravened the authority of the legislative branch and the truth-seeking purpose of a coordinate investigative proceeding in that, as President, Fitzgerald T Grant, failed to respond to certain written requests for admission and willfully made perjurious, false and misleading sworn statements in response to certain written requests for admission propounded to him as part of the impeachment inquiry authorized by the House of Representatives of the Congress of the United States.

Fitzgerald T Grant, in refusing and failing to respond, and in making perjurious, false and misleading statements, assumed to himself functions and judgments necessary to the exercise of the sole power of impeachment vested by the Constitution in the House of Representatives and exhibited contempt for the inquiry.

In doing this, Fitzgerald T Grant has undermined the integrity of his office, has brought disrepute on the Presidency, has betrayed his trust as President, and has acted in a manner subversive of the rule of law and justice, to the manifest injury of the people of the United States.

Wherefore, Fitzgerald T Grant, by such conduct, warrants impeachment and trial, and removal from office and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honour, trust or profit under the United States

* * *

><p><strong>Opening statements<strong>

**Police Trial - Prosecution**

"May it please the court, counsel, good morning. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as you fought your way into court through the sea of media reporters, you may have been led to believe this is the crime of the century. I don't want you to be intimidated by all media scrutiny because the facts of this are simple, so simple that they boil down to black and white. A young man on his way home from the store was shot by a cop. The victim didn't have a gun on him. Or any other kind of weapon, he was unarmed. What he did have on him, were two bottles of soda, a bag of candy and pack of gum. This young man was a few months away from going to college, the first in his family to do so, yet after a chance meeting with a law enforcement officer, he was dead…

"…You will hear evidence that the deceased had his hands up in the air, and was kneeling on the ground when he was shot eight times. Eight times, Ladies and Gentlemen, in a willful, targeted shooting of an unarmed civilian who was just going home from the store. A victim who is dead not because of a drive-by shooting or a gang-banger but due to an extrajudicial execution by a law enforcement officer…"

"…Now my colleague for the defence will attempt to show you that we're on a witch hunt. They will attempt to shift the status of victim from the deceased to the man on trial for his murder. As I present evidence to disabuse of this suggestion, I need you, the jury, to stay focused on the facts and only the facts. Let me assure you, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, my job is not to get an indictment, my job is to seek truth in order for you, the jury, to bring a just verdict…"

* * *

><p><strong>Police trial - Defence<strong>

"The facts of this case go deeper than black and white, there are several shades of grey that need to be considered, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury. This is a trial that asks you to take a cold hard look at the actions of a law enforcement officer – a cop who has one of the most difficult jobs in this country – who made an error of judgement in the heat of the moment. Human error is not unique to law enforcement officers, we all make make them, though not all our actions have such fatal, irreversible consequences…"

"…The Prosecution has asked you to focus on the facts of the case, and I urge you to do the same. Focus on the fact that my client worked in a high crime area; that on the night of this significant event, my client responded to an all-points-bulletin of a criminal on the loose; a criminal who was reported to be armed and dangerous, who had robbed a convenience store. My client, a law enforcement officer, whose sworn duty is to uphold the law, was on the lookout for that criminal suspect and the deceased, from his appearance and actions, matched the general description of the very criminal he was looking for…"

"…Don't let the prosecution muddy the waters by making this about race. This is not about race. This is about human error, a split second judgement that cops make in order to keep our neighbourhoods free of crime. My job is to help you see that one mistake should not be compounded by a deliberate miscarriage of justice, so let me repeat, the facts of this case are not black and white…"

* * *

><p><strong>President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant's impeachment Trial<strong>

**House of Representatives Manager's statement during the the Trial to Impeach President Grant**

"Mr. Chief Justice, counsel for the President, I will state for the record that I believe all lives matter, every single American life matters and this trial is about the lives lost due to the conduct of a President who swore an oath of office to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution and to faithfully execute the laws of the United States…

"…The matter before you is a question of the willful, premeditated deliberate corruption of the Nation's office of President and our institutions of justice and administration. These alleged acts – when committed by the chief law enforcement officer of the land; the one who appoints every United States district attorney, every Federal judge, every member of the Supreme Court, the Attorney General — are a concern for Congress and the American People…

"…Every public officer is elected on a platform of public trust; we, the people, expect those we elect to do the right thing by us. In this regard, the Office of President holds the ultimate level of public trust, as the President represents the conscience of our nation.

"…The President, as an individual, does not own the Office of President, we the people do. The President is elected by the people and our representatives in the electoral college. And in accepting the challenges of the highest public official in the land, the President, in his inaugural oath, enters into a covenant—a binding agreement of mutual trust and obligation—with the American people. To break that trust among the three branches of government, and between our country and the rest of the world is not a mere harmful act, it is a criminal act. In breaking the covenants of trust, this President has crushed the very foundations of our country's greatness – our freedom, our democracy, our respect for the rule of law.

"…Do not let the distraction of a white man who has outed himself as a black man, distract you from the matter at hand. Your judgment, should rise above politics, above partisanship, above polling data. There should be no grey areas in this matter for which the answer will be clear in black and white. This case is a test of whether the constitutional right enshrined by our forefathers 'that all men are born equal' should become a fact of reality; whether judging the actions of a commanding officer is equal to the judgement we would pass on lesser men for crimes against humanity…"

* * *

><p><strong>Senate Response by an Independent Senator in defence of President Grant during his Impeachment trial:<strong>

"...Mr. Chief Justice, throughout our history we have endured attacks on our continuing experiment with self-governance. Not only have we endured these attacks on our Constitutional integrity but we have overcome them. We came out stronger and more resilient in the proof that our Founding Fathers had the wisdom and foresight to set the guiding principles to ensure Daniel Webster's claim of "one country, one constitution, one destiny" remains true as the bedrock of our democracy…"

"… Yet today, I believe we face a test more perilous than what we, as legislators, have faced in this chamber in our democratic history. We have the highest public officer of our great land, accused of one of the lowest acts of criminal misbehaviour. An act so heinous it is incomprehensible to associate the accusation with an officer that holds the greatest public trust…"

"…It is true that in the history of the United States of America, we have never had a monarchy. We, as a nation, do not subscribe to the "divine right of kings" theory of governance, where the King is above the basic legal and ethical codes that is required of an average citizen. It is also true that we must never accept one law for a President, and another for our citizens. That would be the lightning strike that destroys the heart of our democracy and our system of justice, But, what we have here is a travesty of the secular intentions of our Founding Fathers…"

"…The titles Commander-in-Chief and chief law enforcement officer carry a great burden – the burden of ultimate responsibility; the burden that someone has to make the tough calls; the burden that a man, one man alone, must at times decide what is in the best interests of this great nation of ours. For this reason, our Founding Fathers included Constitutional protections for the President in recognition of the burdens of his office. These Constitutional protections were intended to preserve and maintain the proper functioning and operational integrity of that office of President. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant didn't break any laws because he was acting within his legal, constitutional rights to serve and protect this country…"

"…Much has been said about the rights and obligations of the Office of the President to 'we the people'. Those same covenants of trust are placed on us as legislators, as representatives of the people. I believe this is the first time in our history, that both parties have stood united in the common aim of impeaching a President who has shed the shackles of partisan beliefs to govern as an independent; who has acted with integrity and with the best intentions for the betterment of our nation. And for the first time, 'we the people' stand united, not merely in protest of this trial, but also in the hope that we, in this chamber – who act as judge and jury – will rely on the Constitution to find a peaceable and just resolution, and that we, as legislators, will fulfill our duty, a duty sworn by oath in this Senate chamber, to deliver impartial justice…"

* * *

><p><strong>Police trial<strong>

**Witness Testimony - For the Prosecution: **

**Bystander: "**The kid had his hands in the air, and he was kneeling on the asphalt when this cop pulled his gun and shot him. I saw it clearly. I was maybe 20 feet away when it happened. No, the kid didn't hit him. No, the kid didn't try to grab his gun. Yeah, I've was arrested for possession of a narcotic. No, I wasn't high at the time. It was years ago. Look, I swore on the Bible to tell the truth and nothing but the truth…"

**Emergency Medical Technician: "**The victim, an adult male, was lying face down on the middle of the street when I arrived. I checked his wrist and the side of his neck. I asked if I could turn him to check other vital signs. I was refused permission. There was no blood on the cop, or signs of physical contact. Yes, the victim was larger in physique than the cop. I would say twice his size…"

**Mother of the victim:** "He was a good boy. He cared about people. He cared for his family, the community, about getting a good job so he could provide for all of us. He'd just been accepted in college. He was going to start this fall. No, he stole nothing from that store. I've seen that video and that's not my boy. It's just the cops trying to make my boy look like a criminal. Yeah, things have been tough, we've been struggling to get by, my husband was laid off work. But we've been managing, my boy was helping anyway he could. NO! He did not steal to put food on the table, that's not what I'm said!..."

* * *

><p><strong>Police Trial <strong>

**Witness Testimony - For the Defence**

**9/11 Operator: **'We got a call about an armed robbery in the vicinity. The perp was described as an adult male, black. We sent out an APB that he was in the vicinity, that he was armed..."

**County Sherriff:** 'No, we don't have any minorities in the County police department. It's not a policy, it's a community limitation. Yes, the community is 75% black. No, I did not think it strange that we don't have law enforcement officers proportionally representative of the community we work in. There is a level of education that is required. No, I am not saying all blacks are uneducated, but white kids do better even without the leg up that blacks get through Affirmative Action. No, it's not true that we pass white applicants who are unfit for the job. We have a reliable private contractor who assesses skill and aptitude for the job. No, I wasn't aware that the defendant had scored below the required literacy and numeracy requirement. No, I wasn't aware the defendant had been rejected by two other police departments because of poor comprehension skills and a lack of judgement …"

**Cop:** 'I was scared. He scared me – he looked mean and evil. He was aggressive, he tried to grab my gun. I got a call that a suspect was on the loose after he'd robbed a convenience store. The description was of a large, black male. The man I saw fitted the description. I just wanted to take him in for questioning but he tried to punch me, then he tried to grab my gun and shoot me. It was self-defence. Yes, I failed my police exams, a couple of times. I had two weeks training. I don't have anything against black people. Yes, I've arrested a lot of them. I work in a black neighbourhood. No, there aren't any people of colour in our department, unless you count the people in the holding cell. No, there aren't any black families where I live, or in my church. Everyone knows blacks are trouble..Who's everyone? Uh, you know everyone, that's why the department uses mugshots of black suspects for target practice on the shooting range…"

* * *

><p><strong>Wrangling over last minute inclusion of a Witness<strong>

**Defence: **We object your honour we haven't had sufficient time to verify the credentials of this witness.

**Prosecutor:** He's a resident whose building overlooks the street where the murder occurred, the entire incident was taped on his phone

**Defence:** We object on the grounds that this evidence is out of context and will be injurious to a fair and objective assessment of my client's conduct

**Prosecutor:** They mean this video will show irrefutable proof the defendant told a pack of lies under oath in a court of law, that the man has sworn to defend and uphold.

**Judge:** Objection overruled.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News: <strong>_

"…_Dramatic scenes unfolded in the police trial at Faraway County today with the defendant caught on video, kerb crawling behind the victim merely walking down a suburban street. The victim then notices the police SUV, stops and faces the vehicle. The cop parks the vehicle in the middle of the street, exits with gun raised, at which point the victim raises his hands, and eventually kneels on the ground still with his hands raised. Then we see shots fired in quick succession…"_

* * *

><p><strong>President's impeachment Trial <strong>

**Witness testimony – for the House**

**The FBI:** "I was one of the first investigators on the scene at the embassy bombings in Denya and Manzania. It was like a war zone. The Warriors of Mass Destruction claimed responsibility. No, we were not aware of the existence of such a group before they claimed responsibility for the carnage on Twitter. No, it didn't surprise me that on an entire continent where roughly 15% of the population have Internet connectivity with the majority in South Africa, Egypt and Morocco, that a bunch of terrorists taking pictures of life - in camps with no electricity or running water - should have a verified Titter account..."

**The Recruiter:** "My name is Stephen Mwangi. I used to work for a mine operator. I found the men, women, sometimes children to work the mines in the Congo. I moved to Denya after the mining company found someone to do my job cheaper than me. Now I free-lance. No, not for the miners, I free-lance for men who want to get work done, how should I say this, undercover. No, not spying, criminal work. I find people who don't want to pay a worker to do honest work, will pay top dollar for the same worker to do dishonest work. I was paid 500,000 American dollars to find men who would deliver parcels by car to the United States embassy in Denya, and to the embassy in Manzania. It was a lot of money, just for me to find a few drivers but Americans are strange. They will pay that money to kill a lion, and post photographs on Facebook. No, I did not know the drivers would be driving to their deaths. The man who contacted me said he worked for an American. I once heard him speak to a Mr Hollis Doyle on the phone. No, the man who contacted me cannot corroborate this information, because he is not alive. Yes, that is right, he is dead. He was killed by a hippopotamus in the Masai Mara National Reserve..."

**The Private Contractor:** As God is my witness, I am the real Hollis Doyle. I would let you bite me as proof I'm no plugged nickel but hell, I haven't had my rabies shots done for my special appearance here today. No, I didn't stage my own death, I was disappeared. Hell, I don't know who would have the balls to turn me into worm food – we're talking about the kind of power that can sabotage my executive jet, bribe my staff, fool air traffic control and turn me into a homeless bum on the streets of LA. It ain't the kind of escape from reality I would have chosen myself. I would have picked a nice tax-free haven where they had cold margaritas and hot babes. What? I can't say 'babes' at an Impeachment Trial – well now, I understand the importance of etiquette, we Texans are big on good ole fashioned manners, especially in a trial investigating a President for bombing a couple of American embassies and killing a couple of hundred Africans? No, I'm not on medication, and I ain't crazy. Yes, the President of the United States, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, hired me to Wag the Dog. I'm referring to the 1997 movie, you know the one where Robert de Niro and Dustin Hoffman create a phony war in Albania to distract the American public from a sex scandal just before a Presidential re-election. No, no, I'm not accusing the actors of starting a gotdamned phony war, I'm talking about the actors in that gotdamned movie. Of course, I accepted the gotdamned job, it's the price I paid for getting the IRS off my back. No, I ain't expecting you to believe the President picked up the phone and told me to bomb American diplomatic missions in Africa. I met with his President's chief of staff, Cyrus Beene. Cyrus told me the President wanted to start a war. There was that gotdamned Congressional hearing on Police Brutality and they sure fire hell needed a distraction. No, I wouldn't say Fitzgerald T Grant and I are friends, but I have worked closely with Mz Olivia Pope in the past. I hired her to find my daughter after she went missing. Yes, Mz Pope found my daughter, yes the same daughter who sued me and wanted me to stay dead..."

* * *

><p><strong>President's impeachment Trial <strong>

**Witness testimony – for the House**

**The Photo-Journalist**: "I'm a free-lance journalist. Yeah, I know Mr Stephen Mwangi, only he was calling himself 'Mack' back then. When I was first saw him, he was kicking up a stink about police brutality. The cops were trying to shove him in the back of a police van, and this guy Mack was refusing to get in, yelling that he'd end up dead with a broken like Freddie Grey. I realise this is a trial to impeach the President, and not police brutality, but I'm just telling you what this guy was yelling out. I mean I even took photographs of the guy and when I saw his picture in the papers, I took the next flight out from LA to DC. Man, I had to jump through hoops getting a gig on this show. I tried to make contact with the President's Counsel, but it's like Fort Knox over there. I was about to give up when the gatekeeper gave me a number for a crisis management team, calling themselves Olivia Pope and Associates…"

**The Campaign Staffer:** "I worked for Mr Samuel Reston's Presidential campaign. Yes, that's correct. Past tense. I no longer work for the Democratic candidate for the United States Presidency. I resigned from Mr Reston's campaign the day before I contacted the crisis management office of Mrs Olivia Pope-Grant. I told them I knew Mr Stephen Mwangi but that is not the name he gave when we were introduced. Mr Doyle told me his name was Mack. I am not mistaken about his identity – I bailed the man, who identifies himself as Mr Mwangi, as well as Mr Hollis Doyle from an LAPD police station after they were arrested on public nuisance charges. Mr Doyle and Mr Mwangi had gate-crashed a charity dinner to alert Mr Reston that Mr Doyle was not dead. I bailed the two men out at Mr Reston's request. He wanted to make sure Mr Doyle was who he said he was. Mr Reston thought he was an impostor at first, but I told him that Mr Doyle had yelled the word 'Defiance'. No, I am not aware of the significance of that word..."

**The LAPD arresting officer**: I'm the arresting officer. I told Mr Samuel Reston's staff, a pretty girl, who said her name was Pretty too. Anyways, I told her that I got a dead man alive and kicking in my cell. That man would be Mr Hollis Doyle, yes, The lady bailed him out, took the black guy with her – he's the one who'd been kicking up a stink about police brutality. Is Mack from Denya in Africa? [Laugh] Hell no, Mack's a homeless bum – he's been living on Skid Row for as long as I can remember…"

* * *

><p><strong>Wrangling over scheduled inclusion of a Witness<strong>

**President's Legal Counsel: **We object, your honour, we are not prepared for the line of questioning opened up by the testimony of Mr Hollis Doyle in reference to the First Lady

**House:** We Mrs Pope-Grant's evidence is essential to the matter at hand, as she has been named by several witnesses.

**PLC:** The First Lady requires the list of questions that the House intends to interrogate her with.

**House: **The First Lady is a qualified lawyer who ran a very successful business advising clients to manage the legal, social and financial crises in their lives. We understand that is why the President has chosen to make Mrs Olivia Pope-Grant his current Chief of Staff. She is ably represented by the best lawyers in the country.

**PLC:** She's pregnant

**House:** That is sexist

**Judge:** The First Lady will testify

* * *

><p><em><strong>Breaking News: <strong>_

"…_We're live on Capitol Hill. First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant was rushed out of the Senate Chamber by Military medical personnel. Early reports suggest Mrs Pope's false labour pains were caused by stress. Mrs Pope-Grant, who was being sworn in as a witness in the trial of her husband and President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, is in the last stages of her pregnancy. _

"…_In an unexpected development, the House prosecutors' submission for an extension to allow for Mrs Pope-Grant's testimony, was interrupted by the appearance of former White House chief of staff Mr Cyrus Beene. Mr Beene has been brought into the Senate chamber in a wheelchair by the President's father-in-law, Professor Pope and the President's son, Fitzgerald Grant IV. _

"…_Several objections from the House prosecutors, including a claim that Mr Beene couldn't give evidence as his death was being investigated by Bethesda police with his husband under arrest for his possible murder. The Chief Justice denied the objection on the grounds that the President was being prosecuted by one man who had returned from the dead, so a balance would be achieved if a similar resurrection took place for the defence… _

"…_Mr Beene testified under oath that the President and First Lady were not aware of Mr Hollis Doyle's plot to bomb the US embassies of Manzania and Denya. He said Mr Doyle staged the terrorists acts to encourage the President into military action, a move anticipated by vested interests. In support of these allegations, the Senate Jury then heard a replay of Mr Beene's secretly recorded conversations with Mr Hollis Doyle… "_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Police on Trial – <strong>__Verdict: Guilty on all counts  
><em>

_**President on Trial**__ – Verdict: Acquittal on all articles of Impeachment_

* * *

><p><strong>World News<strong>

_In a red letter day for conspiracy theorists, former White House Chief of Staff Cyrus Beene made an unexpected appearance at the Senate Impeachment Trial of President Fitzgerald Grant to claim private parties in the United States staged phony terrorist acts to get the President to start a real war. The Rightwing Press are making a meal out of Democratic Presidential hopeful, Samuel Reston's involvement in the phony war and the phony impeachment charges brought against an incumbent President, which is being deflected in the Liberal media with questions about the identity of alleged private parties who really govern the United States of America…_

…_We interrupt this special report to go live to the White House…_

**Local News**

_News of the President's acquittal reached the Faraway Courthouse as the jury delivered its verdict of guilty against the killer cop. The accused broke down in tears as the jury of 12 men and women revealed they had been unanimous in their judgement that he was guilty on all counts. The mother of the victim later told reporters, that finally she could breathe again, as justice had been served in the murder of her son by a law enforcement officer…_

…_We interrupt this special report to hear from the President of the United States…_

* * *

><p><strong>President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant's Speech<strong>

"_Good evening, I would like to thank the American people and the citizens of the world, our friends, for your support. The many kindnesses you have shown, have sustained us through a very difficult time, and your heartfelt appreciation of the just outcome to the Senate impeachment trial has been deeply moving to me and my family. So it is with the deepest regret that I speak to you from the Oval Office, for possibly the last time, to say that I, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, resign as President of the United States…"_

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter owes a lot (in unauthorised usage) to the actual impeachment trials of Presidents Nixon and Clinton, and to a lesser extent Andrew Jackson. The Scandalous abuse of actual events continues... :D_  
><em>


	55. An Ending

** This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant's Speech<strong>

"_Good evening, I would like to thank the American people, our friends both here at home and from afar, your support sustained us through a very difficult time and your heartfelt appreciation as to the just outcome of the Senate inquiry into my actions has been deeply moving to me and my family. So it is with the deepest regret that I say, for possibly the last time, that I Fitzgerald Thomas Grant resign as President of the United States…_

"_To the best of my ability and in the best interest of those I love, I have kept true to the oath I took four years ago – before God and country - to protect this nation, its Constitution and its citizens. _

"_While recent events may have thrown my fidelity to that oath into doubt, today's verdict has restored my faith that justice can and will be done. The bipartisan acquittal handed down by the Senate assures me that, whatever you may think of the effectiveness of my Presidency, there will be no grounds to believe that I colluded with private interests to destroy public trust and the public's faith in the Office of President …_

_"I can assure you that I intended to fight the good fight so my administration can build on our achievements during a second term. That goal was always dependent on your scorecard; on whether you - the American voters - believe I deserve a pass to return to office or a fail to leave as a first-term President... _

_"Beyond this job of being President, I am a husband and father, and I have to keep them safe from the dangers inherent in this job. Today, it became clear that I must make a choice – because even I as a man – that most privileged individual in our society – cannot have it all. I can fight the good fight or I can fight to keep my family safe from harm, and I choose family..._

_"Today, I realized that in the few short weeks remaining until we, as a nation, elect the next leader of our great nation, my time will be wasted on matters that have little to do with social policies and issues of governance that are in dire need of attention – namely justice, poverty, unemployment, and inequality in its myriad of forms... _

"_It's now clear to me the cost of walking away from the partisan base of the Republican Party to become America's first Independent President, is to waste my time preventing a bloodless coup as each side - Republican and Democrat - attempts, in the these dying hours of my Presidency, to ensure that their man or woman occupies the seat of power in the Oval Office. I wish both of them the best of luck – may the best man or woman win…_

"_However, until we hold our democratic elections in a few short weeks, and we know the Presidential choice made by 'we the people'; this country will have the privilege of being led by a man of great integrity and principles, a man who is no stranger to making tough choices, ___a man who has worked both in his private and public life to ensure that justice is done, a man who_ continues to be a key player in the fight for accountability at grass roots level. I have no doubt that he will achieve in a few short weeks, what many men – including myself – will need years to get off the ground..._

"_So it with some sadness at a job half done, I announce that at nine tomorrow morning, I will resign as President of this great nation, and at that time, in this Office, Mr Lucas Zeke, a man of great integrity, conviction and a sense of justice, will become America's next President…" _

* * *

><p>Fitz removed the lapel mic from his jacket; thanked his communication staff for staying up late to telecast his message live from the Oval Office' received handshakes and hugs from members of the Cabinet who'd stayed after the meeting for the Big Announcement; then went in search of the one person missing from the melee, with Zeke by his side.<p>

"Mr President," Fitz began trying to lighten the mood, after they'd walked down the main hallway in silence.

Zeke gave an explosive chuckle. "Old Man George Washington must be turning in his grave."

"Your Ma would be proud."

"This would have killed your Pa, if he weren't already dead."

"I stopped being Big Jerry's son a long time ago."

"Ain't that the truth."

"What's your first order of business?"

"I was thinking of flying the Rainbow Flag for a week, and replacing the bust of Lincoln with Liberace."

Fitz angled a glance, hoping he could trust the grin on Zeke's face.

At the end of the hallway, Zeke said, "You need time alone with Olivia and I need to talk to Oscar about the ten dozen messages he sent about being our nation's First Significant Other."

* * *

><p>As Fitz stepped into the Centre Hall of the Executive Residence, he saw Tom with a group of solemn-faced agents in front of the Presidential suite.<p>

"She's locked herself in, sir."

"Break the locks."

"Sir?"

"Do it."

They broke the locks to the main suite, and the bedroom door but Fitz ordered them to stop at the bathroom door.

"I'll take care of this one."

There was a pause as the agents glanced at each other, then Tom muttered, "We'll, uh, stand guard outside until these locks get put back."

* * *

><p>After the men cleared out, shutting the doors as best they could after them, Fitz knocked on the bathroom door. "Olivia?"<p>

There was no answer.

Fitz rammed his shoulder against the door, breaking through to see Olivia sitting in the empty bathtub, fully dressed, her face wet with tears, mouth agape.

They stared at each other for a long silent moment; then Olivia closed her mouth, wiped her cheeks and sniffed. "You could have used one of the other 34 bathrooms. It will be your last chance."

"I don't want to use the bathroom." He murmured, carefully rotating his shoulder as he hunkered down by the side of the tub so they were eye to eye. "You should be resting."

"I'm resting."

"You'll be more comfortable on a bed."

"I'm fine where I am."

Fitz stood, but only to step into the tub and scoot himself close behind her.

She smacked at his arms as they wrapped themselves around her.

"Don't fight me."

"You quit. After everything… the campaign… the divorce… the trial… everything. You turned your back on everything we worked for… because of me. I never wanted that… to be _that_ person… the one you made the ultimate sacrifice."

Fitz tightened his arms around her, resting his cheek against hers. "I can't lose you, _that_ would be the ultimate sacrifice."

Her stiff back relaxed against him, and she took a deep shuddering breath. "It was a scare, Fitz," she said softly, almost soothingly. "I'm fine, the baby's fine."

He closed his eyes briefly. "You collapsed."

"I felt lightheaded. It was hot in the Senate chamber."

"Olivia, the doctor ordered you to take it easy."

"I'm going to take it easy."

"Good, now I can make sure that you do."

"Take it back."

"You don't want me to look after you?"

"Take back your resignation; say you changed your mind."

"I haven't changed my mind," He drew back far enough to stare at her profile. "Was this always about the Presidency, Olivia?"

She half turned with her brow knotted in a confused frown.

"Are you saying you can't love me as an average Joe?" he clarified.

Her brow cleared, and her gaze dropped as she murmured, "I don't do average. It's not in my DNA."

He growled a laugh, chasing her face for a kiss. Then with his lips pressed against her skin, he sighed. "I feel as if a great weight has lifted off my shoulders. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow with the knowledge that all I have on my schedule will be you and the kids." He kissed his way down the side of her face, to the sweet spot on her neck.

"Don't." She scrunched her shoulder, but with less force that he anticipated. "You realize Zeke will have to be President."

"A landmark achievement for LGBT rights."

Catching the sneaky smile that tugged at her mouth, he kissed her again. "You have your gut, Livvie. I have my heart. In my heart I know I've done the right thing."

Olivia leaned her head back against his shoulder, then turned her face in towards his neck.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked in a gentle, deep tone

"No."

"How long are you going to stay mad at me?" He rubbed her belly.

"A long time."

He smiled. After another long pause, he asked, "Can we get out of this bathtub?"

"Nope."

He drew back. "Olivia."

"It' not that I don't want to. I just can't."

With a soft laugh, Fitz stood up and reached for her. Once he'd managed to get her on her feet, he cupped her face in both hands.

Olivia snuck her arms around his waist, her face tilted towards him, her gaze soft.

Without a word, Fitz kissed her forehead, her nose, and the circles under her eyes, then lingered on the rogue smile flitting over her mouth. "I love you."

She smiled sadly. "Maybe you should love me a little less."

A laugh escaped him. "That didn't work, even after you left me to be with Edison."

Her soft gaze vanished behind a sharp frown. "I did _not_ leave you to be with Edison."

"You left me. Then you hooked up with Edison."

"Fitz."

He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. "Your sad look is gone. Now all I'm getting is fury." He chuckled at her look of annoyance, then bent his head to pepper kisses all over her face. "I. Love. You." He waited. "Say it back."

She kept her eyes closed, smiling.

"Stubborn," he groaned, kissing her again. "If I tuck you in bed, will you take a nap?"

Her eyes snapped open. "What are you going to do?"

"It's my last day as President, Liv, I need to make some noise."

"Are you going to ground my dad?"

"No."

"Then you can't ground Jerry."

"Olivia."

"Listen, Joe, you can't have one law for adults and another for kids."

"Joe? Did you just call me Joe?"

"Mister Average Joe." She smirked. "Better get used to it."

"Mrs Smart Ass." He grinned, giving her another kiss.

* * *

><p>Fitz nodded at the two agents standing guard outside the suite; and made his way towards the stairs leading to the upper floor.<p>

Blocking his path was Zeke, seated on the bottom step. Leaning against him, with her head on his arm, was Karen dressed in her pjs. They were both watching a replay of Fitz's resignation speech on Zeke's phone.

When Fitz cleared his throat, Karen gasped and scrambled to her feet. "Is Mom okay?"

"Mom's fine."

"Can I go see?"

Fitz gave a mock frown. "You don't trust me?"

"Dad," Karen gave a solemn look. "I didn't give Mom a goodnight kiss."

"Okay, you can give her one kiss," Fitz teased as he dropped a kiss on her head. Then kissing her again, he added, "And another one from me."

"I'll give her one and one for the baby," Karen smiled, backing away slowly. "And I'll give both of them a kiss from you, and from Zeke." Then she dashed off before Fitz had a comeback.

"That's six kisses," Zeke grinned as Fitz helped him up off the floor. "I need that kid to work for me. Would you let me swear Karen in as Veep?"

"Only if you'd let have time off to do her homework."

Zeke chuckled. "I'll get the guys to help her with that."

"How is Oscar taking the news?"

"He's not busting out the champagne."

Fitz grinned. "He'll get used to it." Then with a quizzical glance, he added, "I'm on my way to read the riot act to Rowan and Jerry."

"I'd buy seats to that show but the FBI and Attorney General are waiting downstairs in the basement with Cyrus. I'll tell them you'll be there shortly."

"Is he tied up?"

"The bastard saved your ass."

"He's the reason my ass got fried to begin with."

"I'll see what I can do." Zeke grinned as he walked away.

* * *

><p>Fitz nodded at the Marine standing on duty outside Rowan's office before entering.<p>

Rowan stopped pacing the carpet and glared. "Fitzgerald, this is an outrage! I do not appreciate being locked up in here like a delinquent!"

"I told you he was tyrant," Jerry said, lounging on sofa, scrolling through his phone.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation; you've been associating with a known terrorist under Federal Law – that's a violation of US Criminal code 18 section 2339B."

"You may be able to scare Jerry with talk like that, but I'm a grown man, an old man and you're going to have to better than that. Section 2339B prohibits material support or resources to a designated foreign terrorist organisation. Cyrus Beene is a former employee of the United States Government; he is an ex-federal employee, and unless the US government has now been classified – in my view accurately – as a terrorist organisation for its activities on foreign soil, Jerry and I have not violated any known laws."

Jerry who'd been staring at Rowan, turned to Fitz and smirked. "What he said. And.." Jerry linked his hands behind his head. "...We weren't '_associating'_. We were trying to save your ungrateful ass." At Ftiz's raised brow, Jerry added, "Dad."

"I need to know the extent of your dealings with Cyrus so I can determine the appropriate punishment."

"You are in no position to threaten us," Rowan countered.

"Especially as you quit being president." Jerry added.

"I'm still President for another nine hours." Fitz made himself comfortable in the nearest armchair. "How long have you been in contact with Cyrus?"

"I've known since he came to our house in California to make you President," said Jerry.

"I met Cyrus after you decided to marry my daughter."

"You know what I mean – how long have you both been in contact with Cyrus since he resigned as White House chief-of-staff?" Fitz said patiently.

"I keep telling you, Dad, but you're not listening - we haven't been in '_contact_' with Uncle Cy. I wanted to speak to Uncle James but Huck told me he'd been arrested for murder, but that Uncle Cy wasn't really dead. Huck said Uncle Cy was hiding in a safe house, but that he wanted to come out of hiding to testify at your trial."

"Fitzgerald, we were informed that Olivia had placed Cyrus in protective custody until such time he could be of use; specifically until it was right for him to reveal what really happened at those embassies in Manzania and Denya; but that you did not want Cyrus to testify as a witness to exonerate you."

"I thought the evidence Olivia had gathered about Hollis and his lies would be sufficient."

"This is another example of your judgement demonstrably at odds with reality. You may want to leave this office as an impeached President, but I do not want Olivia to share in the shame of your ruin."

"I'm not ruined."

"Do not take credit for that situation! Olivia may have chosen you for better or for worse, but I am doing my best to avoid my child experiencing the folly of her choices!"

"Okay, time out!" Jerry stood up. "Dad loves Mom. Mom loves Dad. That's not a folly of choices. It's how we got to be a family. You need to get used to the idea, Professor Pope."

Rowan stared at Jerry, then admitted stiffly, "Wrong choice of words."

Fitz glanced at the two of them. "Who called James?"

"I did," Jerry and Rowan both spoke, but Jerry repeated in the ensuing pause, "_I_ called Uncle James."

"How did you get his number? Did Mom give it to you?"

"No!" Jerry scowled.

"The only other person who's been in contact with him, because of Ella, is Karen. Is she involved in this?"

"No," came another chorus.

"So how did you get Cyrus to testify in Congress."

"I went over to Blair House and spoke to Cyrus in person," said Rowan. "I wanted to make sure his 'evidence' wouldn't get you into more trouble than you were already in."

"Blair House? Did you say _Blair House_?"

"Jeez old man," Jerry sighed, then turned to Fitz. "Okay, Dad, we're done talking to you."

* * *

><p>"You knew?!" Fitz glared.<p>

"Yes sir," Tom admitted.

"You didn't say anything."

"No sir."

"Dammit, Tom, I'm your boss."

"Yes, sir."

"_Blair House_!"

"It's like Fort Knox, and the only way we can get in or out of there now is through the secret passage. And he was close to his daughter, sir."

"You're fired."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>"Will Dad ground me?" Karen murmured, snuggling up to Oliva, their hands placed on her belly feeling the baby move.<p>

"Nope. Your dad is a big softie when it comes to us girls."

Karen giggled. "You get away with more stuff than I do."

Olivia rubbed her cheek against Karen's hair. "We'll see what you get up to when you're a teenager."

"I'll be good. You know I will."

"Hmm…."

"Mom!" Karen laughed.

* * *

><p>"Do you want me to give him a pardon?" Zeke said as he and Fitz made their way to the basement.<p>

"No. I don't want to Gerald Ford gave Richard Nixon a blanket pardon after the Watergate scandal and impeachment trial – the stink will never leave you."

"I'm a big boy."

"I don't want him to be pardoned."

"Gotcha."

Fitz entered the room alone. Cyrus was seated at a table, his hand-cuffed hands before him, looking gaunt and tired.

There was a long silence, then Cyrus rasped, "You resigned."

"Yes.

"Why?"

"Olivia."

"Ah." Cyrus released a loud sigh. "That's regrettable. You were finally living up to your potential."

"As a liberal, progressive. You never liked that about me."

"Being at death's door can change a man's perspective."

"You've seen Jesus."

Cyrus cracked a laugh. Then seeing Fitz was serious, he sobered and said, "What are you going to do with me? Feed me to the sharks?"

"Out of consideration for James and Ella, no."

Cyrus waited.

So did Fitz.

Eventually, Cyrus said, "You saved my life… when I was ill."

"Olivia saved your life."

Cyrus' face fell. "You're going to send me to prison."

Fitz was silent.

"For how long?"

"I haven't decided. Zeke can make that decision."

"He'd have me blindfolded before a firing squad."

"It's no more than you deserve."

Cyrus stared belligerently, then sighed. "Yes."

"James has been released from police custody, with an apology for wrongful arrest."

"I spoke to him in the car. They did allow me that."

"I understand you've been spending time with Ella at Blair House."

Cyrus stared at him owlishly, then blurted, "Are you going to charge me with Treason?"

Fitz paused, then shook his head wearily. "Olivia would never forgive me. The Attorney General will consider a charge for the felony crime of Accessory Before the Fact, and if you plead guilty – you will be placed under house arrest."

Cyrus stared at him. "That's… generous."

"I'm thinking of James and Ella, and your rose garden."

"Ah, yes. You remember."

"I can't forget, Cyrus." Fitz stood. "That's my problem."

"What happens to Hollis Doyle?"

Fitz paused, halfway to the door, then turned to face Cyrus, his expression grave. "He'll be charged with Treason under title 18 section 2381."

"That's a death penalty crime. Not that he doesn't deserve it… all those unnecessary deaths…"

"He'll get prison – for a term not less than five years and a $10,000 fine."

Cyrus gave a snort of laughter. "The man is penniless."

"We have prisoner employment schemes – he can pay off the debt at $2 an hour."

Cyrus smiled.

Fitz didn't respond. After a beat he turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

><p>There was one more person that Fitz had to see on his last night as President.<p>

He walked into the Private Dining Room next to the Oval Office where Mack was finishing off a burger and fries, watched over by several security agents.

As Fitz entered, Mack shot to his feet, belatedly rubbing his hands on his jacket before saluting smartly, "Mr President, sir!"

"At ease, Sarge. You can take a seat." Fitz drew out a chair for himself at the table.

Mack stood a moment, his eyes tearing, then he sat down slowly. "How did you know my military rank?"

"I know a lot about you, Sergeant Cornelius Reynolds, awarded the Bronze Star for heroic service in a combat zone. You got your men out alive from the Mekong Delta in South Vietnam."

"Only to watch them die one by one, at their own hand, on home soil. War is brutal."

"I agree."

"So is this my last meal, before I get zapped or lethally injected for being a Denyan impersonator?" Mack sneaked a couple of fries into his coat pocket.

Fitz sat forward. "I hear you've been living on the streets for 20 years."

"Maybe more. Reagan was still President when I started panhandling on street corners." Mack stared at Fitz. "Mr President, is there a reason I ain't in prison like my friend Texas?"

"I have received a recording of a conversation between you, Hollis and Edison Davis at an abandoned warehouse. I believe in the three-strike law. This is only your first strike."

Mack sat back. "So if you ain't going to kill me, what am I going to get?"

"How would you like a job?"

"At the White House? For a day? Is this a joke? What about prison? I was looking forward to three meals a day and a hot shower."

"You'll be charged with a felony but the Attorney General will consider a community service order, and with this job, you'll have enough to pay for your own meals and utilities."

"What's the job? Dog washer?"

Fitz linked his hands on the table. "My wife started a homeless project that's very close to her heart, and I'd like to make sure it continues, even with private funding. You think you have the time to be a resident expert on the project?"

* * *

><p>The bedside lamp on his side of the bed was on. The soft mellow light, shone its light on Olivia lying in the shadows.<p>

Staring at her, Fitz kicked of his shoes, then stripped quickly to walk naked to the bathroom to take a shower. It was only when he was closing the door, that he noticed the lock had been repaired.

When he returned to the bedroom, Olivia was up, propped against the pillows rubbing her belly.

"You're awake," he said softly, sitting down next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I need to pee."

He helped her off the bed, then would have helped into the bathroom, but she stopped him. "Fitz, I can still pee without help."

"Okay, I'll wait here."

He was still standing exactly where she had left him when she returned.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him to the bed. "Did you make a lot of noise?" she murmured, when she was snug in his arms.

"Mm," he kissed the back of her neck. "Lots of noise." He kissed her again. "Are we good?"

"We're always good." She rubbed her hand along his arm.

"Tomorrow is going to be a big day…" he yawned.

"A very big day," Olivia muttered, still wide awake.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry I should have said... this story is not over... we still have a bit to go...like the baby's arrival and finding out who'll be President ;)

And to all those celebrating this holiday season - Seasons Greetings and I wish you peace, joy and laughter at family [and all other] gatherings :D


	56. A Beginning

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Olivia lumbered out of bed, easing away from the loose circle of Fitz's arms as he lay snoring, his face half buried in a pillow.<p>

On her way back from her fifth trip to the bathroom that night, Olivia stood by the side of the bed looking down at Fitz, or more specifically his arm lying across her half of the bed. She thought better of moving it. Instead, collecting a bathrobe, she made her way out through the double doors to the Yellow Oval Room, intent on taking a midnight stroll along the Truman Balcony.

Olivia paused at the sight of the balcony door slightly ajar. Pushing it open wider, she strode forward, pausing again at the sight of Rowan seated on the cane sofa, staring up at the night sky.

"Dad?"

"Olivia!" Rowan said with a start, "What are you doing out here?"

"Can't sleep."

"Same." Then after a pause, he said, "I wanted to see the Blood Moon tonight."

"I didn't even know there was such a thing," Olivia sat down carefully next to her father.

"It's a total eclipse of a Super Moon."

"When does it start?"

"It ended earlier tonight, when Fitz had me under guard in my office, with Jerry."

Olivia glanced at her father. "I'm sure there'll be another Blood Moon eclipse soon."

"The next one will be in 2033."

"Oh."

Conversation ground to a halt, until Rowan said gruffly, "Your mother didn't get much sleep in the days leading up to your birth."

Olivia gave a soft chuckle. "I haven't been sleeping right for months."

They fell silent again, then seeing Olivia rub her arms, Rowan took the throw rug from the back of the sofa and draped it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling the edges closer.

"What are you going to do now that you're no longer First Lady and part-time-chief of staff to the President? Will you go back to Olivia Pope and Associates?"

"I haven't decided." After a pause, she added, "I don't think I want to go back to cleaning up other people's messes."

"Not when cleaning Fitzgerald's messes is a full-time job."

"Dad." Olivia frowned.

"You could start a career in public speaking."

"I'll think about it."

There was another long silence, then Rowan said heavily. "We need to talk about living arrangements, Olivia. Now that Fitz has decided to move the family back to Vermont, Felicia and I need to find our own place, but this decision is so sudden we haven't had time to look at real estate." He waited.

"Will you return to New York?"

Rowan turned back to face the sky. "Eventually... but in the meantime, Felicia and I don't have a place to stay."

Olivia clutched the blanket, biting down on her lip, but the words escaped despite her best efforts to hold them back. "You can stay with us, Dad, until you find your own place."

* * *

><p>Olivia slammed the door into the bedroom, startling Fitz awake.<p>

"What? What happened?" He sat up, his hair on end.

"Dad and Felicia are moving in with us."

Fitz blinked several times, then said cautiously, "But they're already living with us."

"I mean they'll be _going to Vermont _with us."

"Vermont?"

"Vermont!"

"Livvie, I swear it wasn't me."

"No, it was _me_. _I_ asked them to move in with us."

"Oh."

Olivia caught the sly grin, just before Fitz collapsed back onto the pillows, placing an arm over his face. She marched up to him, and pulled his arm off his face.

"What's funny?" she demanded, glaring down at him.

"Nothing," he said innocently, his eyes dancing. "Come back to bed," he patted the space beside him, shifting further to give her room.

"Can't, I need to pee," she said shortly, dropping his arm to bounce a little on the sheets.

"Okay, I'll wait here," Fitz murmured, half-turning so he could watch her as he scrunched the pillows beneath his cheek.

When Olivia came out of the bathroom, he was fast asleep. She glared at his sleeping figure before carefully climbing into bed. He didn't stir. She sat watching his face, to the background noise of his snores, then noticing the tired lines beneath his eyes, she reached over to smooth back his hair gently.

"Poor baby."

* * *

><p>Olivia had begun to doze when the alarm went off, and although Fitz slammed it silent, she still woke, feeling tired and grumpy.<p>

"Hi," he rumbled in a sleep-roughened voice.

"I don't feel well."

"Do you want to stay in bed? I can write you sick note."

She gave a reluctant smile, earning herself a soft kiss. "Tell me it's all a bad dream," she whispered.

"It's all a bad dream."

"You're lying to me."

"You asked me to."

"That's no reason."

"Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"Yes, so you need to stop smiling."

"Can I choose what you're going to throw at me?"

"No."

"Should I be worried that you're this mad before the baby is born?"

"You can ask Tom for a protective vest."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"I fired him." Fitz rolled away, pushing back the covers and getting out of bed.

"What? You fired _Tom_? _Our_ Tom? Why?" Olivia managed to get herself out of bed and stalk Fitz to the bathroom.

Fitz cast a glance over his shoulder. "He knew about Cyrus staying in Blair House." He shut the door on her. Olivia opened it immediately and walked right in.

"Why are you mad at Tom? _I_ asked him to put Cyrus in Blair House! Wait, you're really mad at me, but you fired Tom?"

"Yes." Fitz steered Olivia gently out and closed the door again, this time locking it.

"_Fitz_!"

"I'm doing secret men's business!"

Olivia made an exasperated noise. Then waddled back to the bed, trying to find her private phone.

Unable to check under the bed, she gave up, grabbed a robe and went in search of Tom.

* * *

><p>Olivia paused at the top of the stairs wondering how she was going to manage them unaided, just as Zeke appeared on the landing below.<p>

"Hello, gorgeous," he grinned, sprinting up a couple of steps at a time to envelope her in a hug. "I'm going to miss seeing you looking all ready to set fire to some bastard when you've just rolled out of bed. Give me names, I'll take care of him for you."

Olivia glared at him crossly, not responding.

"Hey now, wait a sec. You mad at me? Why you mad at me?" Zeke wrapped one arm around Olivia, while extending the other as support as he helped Olivia down the steps. "FYI, I don't want to be President."

"You didn't talk Fitz out of it."

"Honey, you want me to talk a guy, crazy in love with you, out of doing what he thinks is best for you? The last guy who tried that is under house arrest." He managed to get her down to the ground floor before asking, "Where are we heading as a lynch mob of two?"

"We're not going to lynch anyone."

"That's a damn shame. I have a list of people I'd like to return the favour."

"We're going to find Tom."

"He ain't on my list."

Olivia glanced at Zeke, then sighed. "This isn't a joke, Zeke. You really are President."

"I know, hon, but if I don't laugh about it, I'm going to freak out and run outta here, screaming."

Olivia tucked both her arms through his. "You know we'll only be a Marine One ride away."

"Maybe you guys can stay here, and Oscar and I can move into the Lincoln bedroom. It'll save me a commute to Vermont."

Olivia smiled. "Fitz has already organised for our things to be packed and trucked out of here after you take the Oath of Office."

"I can issue an Executive Order to have it all unpacked as my first order of business."

Olivia grinned. "I'd like to see you try…" Then she paused, "Were you on your way to see Fitz?"

"Yeah. I need a Bible for the swearing-in ceremony. And I don't want word getting out that I don't have one."

Olivia gave him a droll look, then held out her hand. "Give me your phone. I'll get that organised for you."

* * *

><p><strong>Live Coverage of the Swearing-in Ceremony of President Lucas Zeke.<strong>

"_We are live in the Oval Office, where in a few minutes Vice President Lucas Zeke will be sworn in as the next President of the United States. Mr Zeke's partner, the Cabinet and members of the First Family including Olivia Pope Grant, their three children, four dogs and a basket of yawning puppies have gathered to witness this extraordinary occasion…"_

_[The camera panned over Oscar, Olivia next to him, followed by the children in order of height with the dogs lying at their feet, except for the basket of puppies on Karen's lap. In the back row behind the government officials sat Rowan and Felicia]_

"_President Fitzgerald Grant, or I should say former President Grant has just walked in with our next President Lucas Zeke signalling that the ceremony is about to start…_

"_Mr Lucas Zeke stands before the Chief Justice. He puts hand on the Bible more than a century old, belonging to the Supreme Court, open to I Kings 3:9-11. Mr Zeke is now taking the Presidential oath of office, under Article II, Section 1 of the United States Constitution: _

"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States._"_

* * *

><p><strong>President Lucas Zeke speaks after swearing-in Ceremony.<strong>

"…_For only the second time in our history, a man who never campaigned to be either the Vice President or the President of the United States has the benefit of occupying these positions of power. _

_"...I do not stand here as a result of a traditional vote by 'we the People' or their representatives in the electoral college'; I do not stand here as a result of power-brokers, deep-pocket money men or any other special interest group with an expectation that they can call in favours from me; I do not stand here on the strength of a party platform that I may not, personally, agree... _

_"...I have become America's first visibly black, openly gay President as a result of the decision of one man, a good friend and ex-Navy Seal buddy Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, a man whose passion - for ensuring that this great nation of ours, abides by its Democratic principles - is only second to his love and passion for his family. _

_"...As I stand here today, before you all, I can assure that I intend to continue the challenging but ultimately rewarding Grant legacy, with the help of my lifelong partner and best friend Oscar Zidambe and of course, all 'we, the people' of America…" _

* * *

><p>Fitz had just finished congratulating Zeke with a bear hug, when he heard a muffled scream, whining from the dogs, followed by gasps then a shocked silence.<p>

He turned to see everyone staring at Olivia. She was standing, doubled over, clutching her belly and the back of her chair for support. Clearly visible on the skirt of her white maternity dress was huge wet patch. Then there was pandemonium.

"OMG, her water's broken!"

"The First Lady's having the baby!"

Telling everyone to stand back, Fitz sprinted over to put his arm around Olivia. "Livvie, sweetheart, don't panic – if your water's just broken, we have time."

"I wet myself before Zeke took the oath."

"Have you timed your contractions?"

"Ooh, there's one… and there's another one…"

"_Damnit, Olivia!_" Fitz shouted. Then turning to the circle around them, he yelled, _"My wife is in labour! Get Marine One ready! Call the nurse! Call the hospital!"_

"Yes, sir!" A couple of marines at the door, saluted and took a few steps towards the exit, but one of them paused and looked from Fitz to Zeke. "Sir?" After seeing the expression on both faces, he saluted smartly again and hurried away.

Jerry grabbed Teddy, while Rowan guided the dogs out of the room, followed by Felicia taking the basket of puppies from Karen, who'd run outside to keep watch of the helicopter.

Everyone else rushed forward, telling Olivia 'to breathe', 'don't push', 'walk around a bit' until Fitz yelled, _"Move back! That's an Executive Order! Let her breathe!"_

Olivia gripped his hand, unable to speak as another contraction ripped through her, and just when she wanted to scream again, Karen ran in through the open doors of the Oval Office to announce, "Marine One just landed on the grass!"

Before Fitz could lift Olivia, Zeke and Oscar had her up in a seated position – each supporting her thighs, while her arms clung to their shoulders.

"_I need to push!"_ she gasped.

"_DON'T PUSH!"_ yelled Zeke and Oscar, hurrying across the lawn towards the chopper.

After handing Teddy to Rowan who'd walked back into the Oval Office, Jerry pelted across the grass towards the helicopter as the doors opened and the steps unfolded. Fitz sprang up next to him and both helped Olivia inside the cabin.

Then Fitz yelled, "Close that door and get this thing moving!" They were airborne before he realised someone was missing. "Where's is that damned nurse?"

"Is that her?" Karen pointed to a woman standing on the grass, surrounded by an army of Secret Service agents.

Fitz came over to stare down at the speck and swore.

"I can tell the pilots to turn back and get her," said the Marine crew chief.

Olivia screamed.

"No," said Fitz rushing back to her side, then looked up exasperated when Jerry muttered, "Dad, there's a camerawoman in here," indicating the woman squished in a corner with a camera trained on them.

As all eyes turned on her, she looked away from the eyepiece to say, "I'm covering your first day as America's new President."

"You need to turn that off." Zeke said. "This isn't part of the official schedule."

"But I have a pass to cover the whole day."

In the background, Olivia grabbed Oscar's arm and screamed.

"That's it, sugar, hang in there. I didn't need that arm anyway."

In response, Olivia screamed again. "Ow, oh Oscar, it _hurts_! I can't do this. I've changed my mind. This baby has to stay in! _FITZ_!"

"Hang in there, sweetheart," Fitz kissed her face. "We're almost there."

Karen peeked under Olivia's skirt and said, "I think the baby's pushing against Mom's undies."

That got Fitz up off the seat beside Olivia and on his knees next to Karen, as he reached in to pull off Olivia's underpants, then cried, "Olivia, tell the baby to stay in! We're not at the hospital yet!"

Olivia gave a laugh, half strangled by another scream. "_You tell the baby to stay in! She's not listening to me! AAAArgh!" _

"It's okay, we can do this," Fitz took of his coat, rolled up his sleeves. "We've been in war zones, this should be a piece of cake."

"What do you need, sir?" asked the Marine, who was looking a bit red around the collar.

"_Drugs! I need DRUGS!"_

"You wanted a natural birth, sweetheart, this is as natural as it's going to get," Fitz soothed, as Zeke took the seat he'd just vacated. Then turning to the Marine, Fitz said, "We need towels. Lots of them."

Olivia screamed, clutching at both Oscar and Zeke's arms on either side of her.

"Breathe: huff, huff, puff, puff…"

"_AAAAAAAaaargh!_" Olivia screamed again.

Jerry pulled out his phone from his pocket and made a phone call. "911? Yeah, Mom is either dying or having a baby. We need help."

"Jerry, quit joking around."

"It's no joke, Dad. This is an emergency. Yeah, Mom's in labour. How close are her contractions?"

Olivia screamed again.

"Yeah, that's her. I'd say the contractions are deadly close. The 9/11 operator wants to know how far Mom is …what? Dye-ated? Dilated? Oh… that's a Dad job. Dad, you need to check Mom's stuff down there… can you see the baby's head?"

"I can see the baby's head," Karen said, beside Fitz. "This is kind of cool."

"The 9/11 guy said the baby's crowning. Make sure the um-something cord isn't around the baby's neck."

"Easy, sweetheart, easy," Fitz whispered, sounding a bit awed, as he took hold of the emerging baby.

Jerry bent to take a peek, then turned green and backed away. "That's gross. I think I'm going to puke." Then into the phone, he said, "No, I'm not going to faint. Yeah, I'm breathing and Mom's breathing…"

Olivia screamed again and pushed, and just as suddenly Fitz had his hands full of baby.

He stared dazedly at the baby, then up at Olivia.

"Is it a girl?" she gasped.

"I don't know, the baby's covered in blood," Karen said, matter-of-factly.

"She's a girl," Fitz whispered, cradling the baby in his arms.

Olivia stared at the bundle still attached to her umbilical cord, then gazed at Fitz. His eyes were wet as he leaned over to kiss her before placing the baby in her arms.

"Oh, Fitz, we did it," Olivia sobbed, laughing.

"You did it," He kissed her again.

"We all did it," Olivia smiled happily, including everyone in her radiance until Jerry said urgently,

"Mom, we need to get the baby to breathe. The 9/11 guy says we need to clean her nose and mouth."

The crew chief was ready with towels, and he wiped the baby's eyes, mouth and nose. The baby snuffled then started to wail.

"She's got good lungs," The Marine grinned, proudly, placing a clean towel over her for warmth.

Olivia half laughed, half cried. "She's so gorgeous."

"Is she supposed to look all wrinkled and raisin-like?" Jerry muttered, inching closer. Then he grinned hearing the response over the phone still glued to his ear. "It's okay, all babies look like that."

"What do we do with baby's bungee cord?" Karen asked. "The one that's still attached to Mom."

"The emergency dude says to leave it alone, until we get to hospital."

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News<strong>

_**Story #1:** It wasn't quite the handover America expected when President Fitzgerald Grant resigned today - only our tenth President to leave before completing a full term of office – and Vice President Lucas Zeke took the Oath of Office as America's next Commander in Chief…_

_**Story #2:** The first official duty for America's new President Lucas Zeke was delivering the fourth child of former President Fitzgerald Grant. President Zeke said it was sure to be the most rewarding experience of his short career in the nation's top job..._

_**Story #3:** "The Grant baby's birth was watched by an audience of 20 million people across the country, and an estimated 1.5 billion globally; making it the most watched non-sporting event since the rescue of the Chilean miners in 2010…"_

_**Story #4:** "America's latest President Lucas Zeke, once an ex-Navy Seal Commander and senator of Georgia, invoked the memory of President Gerald Ford a man who was nominated, rather than elected, to the Vice-Presidency and Presidency. Let's hope President Zeke does not follow in the footsteps of President Ford who's mostly remembered for the controversial decision of pardoning Richard Nixon for all his crimes while in office…"_

* * *

><p>While the medical staff were examining Olivia and the baby, Fitz and Zeke walked back to the private room where Oscar had taken the kids to wait with Rowan and Felicia.<p>

"I should sue that damned network but I'm kind of glad the media dogs are going crazy about this birth, instead of sniffing around my private activities, if you get my meaning."

Fitz nodded. "My life with Olivia has been more or less front page news since I made our relationship public. So this is par for the course." He turned to Zeke. "I'll be glad to run interference for you anytime. Just ask."

"You wouldn't have another baby ready to pop out for the next media cycle?"

"I'll be a dead man for suggesting it," Fitz grinned.

* * *

><p>They had barely stepped into the room when the White House Press Secretary and Hospital Administrator arrived to advise that the media, previously blocking the main entrance, had now been herded into the hospital Board Room.<p>

As they walked towards the elevators, surrounded by Secret Service agents, the Press Secretary gave a mini-briefing of the questions that Fitz and Zeke could expect.

"Questions have already been asked about whether you'll be revoking your resignation now that the baby's born and Mrs Grant is out of danger?"

"No, I will not be revoking my resignation," Fitz assured.

"You sure? I won't hold it against you if you change your mind," Zeke chuckled.

"Me neither," muttered Oscar. He'd joined the group, out of concern for Zeke's safety.

"And do you have plans to sue the camera woman and her employer?"

Zeke and Fitz exchanged a glance. "I'm still thinking about it," Zeke said.

* * *

><p>"You know even if Zeke does sue the media for that gross invasion of privacy, the 911 call is a matter of Public Record," Rowan said softly, staring at the sleeping bundle in his arms that was his grand-daughter.<p>

Olivia had arrived in a wheelchair, carrying Baby G in her arms, shortly after the men had left.

"Zeke's not going to sue them, Dad." Olivia yawned, watching yet another replay of the birth on the television above the bed.

"That's good," Rowan smiled. "It was the closest I could get to being there with you. So I appreciated seeing the live coverage... along with the rest of the country."

"You've been holding my little sister for ten whole minutes," Jerry grumbled from his seat on Rowan's armchair.

"Considering you are quick to offload your responsibilities in an emergency…" With a glance, Rowan indicated the curious Teddy, leaning against Rowan's knees, staring at the newest member of the Grant family as Felicia took pictures. "You're in no position to make demands."

"Yes, I am. I helped bring her into this world."

Felicia captured the side-eye that Rowan gave Jerry with a click of her camera.

"What are we going to call her," Karen murmured, snuggled up next to a drowsy Olivia.

"How about Jeri Karen Lucasette Oscarina Grant," called the irrepressible Jerry, adding, "We could ask the 911 guy and the Marine crew chief if it's okay to include their names too."

"Jerry?" Olivia snuffled a laugh, glancing from Karen to Jerry.

"J.E.R.I – for a girl. It's sounds kind of cool."

"How come your name comes first?" Karen frowned.

"Hey, if I hadn't call 911, this little dudette wouldn't be breathing right now."

* * *

><p>Oscar and Zeke took the kids and Olivia's parents back to the White House while Fitz would not be budged from Olivia's side.<p>

When Tom arrived at the hospital with Olivia's hospital bag, and a change of clothing for Fitz packed by White House staff, he stared at the baby and smiled, "She's gorgeous, just like her mother."

Olivia chuckled. "Compliments like that aren't going to get you out of the baby-sitting roster in Vermont."

"I can't wait," Tom grinned.

Fitz waited until the door had closed behind Tom to ask, "What's Tom doing here? I fired him."

"I hired him back. He'll be in charge of security at Vermont. You know you get Secret Service as part of the perks of an ex-President under the Former Presidents Act. A lifetime of protection."

"Nope, the lifetime protection provision changed to 10 years under the 1994 statute signed by Bill Clinton, for Presidents elected after 1997."

"Zeke is going to change that back. You're getting Tom for a lifetime."

"I'll fire him again."

"You can't."

"Olivia."

"Fitz. I'm a new mother, and you shouldn't yell at me. Doctor's orders."

"I didn't hear the doctor give any such order," Fitz gave a rogue smile, shifting his gaze from the baby to Olivia.

"She was thinking it. I could tell."

With a soft chuckle, Fitz kissed Olivia. "I can't believe she's finally here."

"Me neither. Look at all her perfect little fingers and toes." Then lifting a hand, she stroked his cheek. "You're the perfect midwife any mother could ask for."

Fitz laughed, kissing her fingers. "Do you think that should be my new career - becoming a midwife?"

"Nope. You're not escaping nappy duty that easily, Mister."

He laughed again, kissing her mouth, then bent to feather soft kisses on the baby's head. "What a crazy day."

"I wouldn't change a single thing about today."

"Me neither, although next time we'll book you into hospital a week before you're due."

"_Next_ time?" Olivia interrupted.

"Too soon?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy New Year! I wish you all the very best for 2016!

No, the story isn't complete yet... :D


	57. Vermont Life

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>Morning Weather Report<strong>

"_We're expecting another mild day on the Eastern seaboard, thanks to the El Nino effect. It may get hotter for the folks in our Nation's capital. The Church of LoveThyBrother is predicting hellfire rain and lightning strikes for the DC area. The warning was sent via email from the Church headquarters in Maine, asking people to stay away from Pennsylvania Avenue if they want to avoid becoming collateral damage to God's Wrath. That's the news and weather today - Day One, post-Armageddon. The world was expected to end yesterday, when the Super Blood Moon finished, instead a baby girl was born. So on behalf of this network, I'd like to congratulate our former President and First Lady on the birth of their beautiful baby daughter – good luck and God Bless…"_

* * *

><p>Waking from a deep sleep to a baby's cry, Olivia looked towards the crib by her bed, just in time to see Fitz pick up the little bundle.<p>

"Both of you managed a couple of hours' sleep." Fitz placed Baby G in Olivia's arms and took a seat on the bed beside her. "I think we're finally on a synchronised schedule."

"This kid has got us all dancing to her tune," Olivia tickled the baby's cheek as she guiding her towards her breast. "And she's barely two days old." She glanced up at Fitz's whiskery jaw and the tired lines around his eyes. "You need to get some sleep before you collapse."

"I'm okay," He kissed her cheek. "Zeke will be here this morning to take us home."

"Home." Olivia smiled, leaning into him. "That sounds nice."

He angled a look at her. "You've been really, I mean _really,_ nice to me since little Miss Trouble appeared at an altitude of 5000 feet yesterday."

Olivia began to look shady, avoiding his gaze.

"Livvie?"

"What?"

"Olivia."

"I was in a lot of pain that's all." She wrinkled her nose at him.

"And…?"

"And…I may have had some… bad thoughts… about you at the time."

"How bad?"

"I can't say."

"Grievous-bodily-harm 'bad'?"

She avoided his gaze again as she stroked her fingers over the fuzz on bub's head. "I feel really bad about it."

"You should."

She shot him a glance, frowning at the laughter creasing his eyes. "I was going to say I felt bad because you've been great through all this, but now I'm not going to."

"I'll take it as said."

"I'm taking it back."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You've distracted munchkin."

Olivia looked down at the baby, who'd stopped feeding to stare at her thoughtfully. "Wow, this expression looks just like Dad's." Olivia guided the baby back to her breast. "How soon can we start hypnosis on her so she doesn't turn out like him?"

Smiling, Fitz brushed a kiss on Olivia's temple, before resting his cheek against her hair. "I dunno, to me she looks just like you."

"Awww… " Olivia turned to kiss him, then paused. "Did you just imply that I look like my Dad?"

* * *

><p><strong>What's Up at the White House…<strong>

"…_In only his second day in office, President Lucas Zeke's schedule seems fully booked by the former First Family. Sources say the President will personally escort new mother Olivia Pope Grant, ex-President Fitzgerald Grant, and their newborn to Vermont… _

"…_The high-profile former First Couple has yet to announce their plans as private citizens, but it looks like the new President will feature heavily in the picture. Early today, the rest of the family were flown on Marine Two at tax-payers expense to their new home... _

"…_With only a few weeks left until the next Presidential election, it seems President Zeke plans to do little more than be a Presidential Escort for his predecessor and a VIP Seat-Warmer for his successor…"_

* * *

><p>"The media are being really hard on Zekes." Fitz observed, in the middle of an emergency nappy change.<p>

"What did you think would happen when you made him President?" Olivia murmured, examining a little knitted cap that had been a part of a huge care package sent over by White House staff.

"Trying to make me feel bad?" Fitz glanced over his shoulder.

"Is it working?"

"Livvie, are you saying that you still want me to be President, because you know if I was still President, right now I'd be having lunch with Wall Street CEOs instead of doing diaper duty. Are you sure you'd prefer me with the bankers, instead of Baby G."

"Nope, that's not what I'm saying." Olivia came over to put an arm around his waist, leaning against his side. "But I'm still recovering from the trauma of your resignation."

"In time, the memories will fade, like the trauma of childbirth."

Olivia smacked his butt. "Cheeky."

* * *

><p><strong>Stars and Stripes Net Show…<strong>

"_America, it looks like we finally have open government – with our first openly Gay President proudly taking the Oath of Office with his mister, instead of the traditional missus, by his side. This is a monumental day for a country that only got rid of its Sodomy Laws in 2003 and folks are still unhappy about that as evidenced by the continual repeals and appeals. On top of that, we've got our anti-Gay evangelicals exporting their LGBT hate to Africa in the name of our Lord and Saviour. So is it me, or does it strike y'all as a bit strange that the folks in this intolerant nation of ours have been pretty chilled about our first gay President?"_

"_As mentioned, Lucas Zeke is our first 'openly' gay-President. James Buchanan, the 15__th__ President of the United States, is rumoured to be our first Gay President and people back then appeared pretty chilled, as you say, about his relationship with William Rufus King. I mean the lynch mobs weren't out for those two as they probably would be today."_

"_No, because the lynch mobs were, and are, out for black folks, then and now. Personally, I don't think it's a case of chill, per se, but confusion: America's fine, upstanding citizens can't decide if it's more offensive that our President is black or that he's gay. Their brains circuits have probably shorted at the fact that he's black AND gay."_

"_But he is our first visibly black and openly gay President. That's ground-breaking – I feel like we'll finally see the un-redacted torture report from Guantanamo Bay. It's a dawning of a new era. The kind we've never had before."_

"_The guy has only been President for a matter of hours, and in a few weeks, we will have a white straight man from an established party taking the Oath of Office. What we have now is an aberration, more like a commercial break, before the reality of American life returns to script, with its usual lack of diversity, that we're so familiar with…"_

* * *

><p>"I've got a list of my potential candidates for Veep," Zeke said, taking out a sheet of paper from his leather folio case. "Here, I'll give you this, and I'll take the little Princess." Zeke made the tricky exchange and smiled down at the baby in his arms. "You're such a little cutie, aren't you, precious?"<p>

Fitz and Olivia exchanged a glance.

"That was so smooth, it's like he really wanted us to see his list of Vice Presidential candidates," Fitz chuckled.

"When all he wanted was our daughter." Olivia shook her head.

"Hey, I have a stake in this kid, she's my god-daughter. So have we got a name yet?"

"Jerry had some suggestions." Olivia smiled.

"Yeah, I heard. I'm partial to Lucasette myself."

"Fuck off," Fitz snorted.

"Hey!" Olivia objected, as a grinning Zeke belatedly covered the baby's ears.

Then she craned her neck towards the window as they approached the house in Vermont, starting to laugh at seeing, tied to the chimney, a giant balloon in the shape of a stork carrying a baby.

"The stork balloon is from the Marines," Zeke grinned. "And that's just a tip of a very giant pile. I hope there's room inside for the three of you, because all the gifts will blow your mind."

As they stepped out of Marine One, the kids, dogs, puppies streamed out of the house, followed at a more sedate pace by Rowan and Felicia. Tom and his team of hand-picked agents stood in the background.

After the hugs, kisses, and more hugs, the first words out of Karen and Jerry's mouths were, "Can I hold the baby?"

Olivia laughed, sneaking her arms around Fitz, feeling a bit teary-eyed as Zeke said seriously, "One of you will have to fight me to get her."

As Jerry put up his fists in mock combat, Karen angled her head to the side and said, "Please."

"Aaand the girl in the tangerine dress wins," Zeke placed the baby carefully in Karen's arms.

"Hey Mr President, that's blatant discrimination!"

"Jerry, diplomacy works. You should try it sometime." Olivia teased.

"Mom, Zeke's exact word was 'fight', not 'talk'. I followed the rules."

"If you did that more often, Jer, I wouldn't have to ground you for half the crap you pull on us."

"Jeez, Dad, way to kick a kid when he's down." Jerry rolled his eyes.

"At least, finding baby-sitters won't be a problem in this crowd," Rowan observed drily.

"Shall we go inside?" Felicia said brightly, "I made us all some lovely spiced hot apple cider."

"No apples!" Teddy said decisively.

"You've got orange juice," Felicia took his hand and started walking back to the house. Olivia followed, with Karen and the baby, sandwiched between her and Jerry.

Inside there were balloons, flowers, strings of cards, stuffed toys, rocking horses, care packages and other as yet unidentified objects.

"Oh wow, this is too much," Olivia murmured, overwhelmed at the sight.

"You should see what we had to take out to the barn," Jerry muttered, "There's a lot more stuff that didn't get send to the barn – like the giant Panda stuffed bear sent by the Chinese First Lady that we had to put in Teddy's room because he wouldn't stop crying until we did, and the Indian Prime Minister has sent enough bling for Baby Jeri that she can be the Christmas Angel on our tree this year and we won't need any lights."

"It's okay, Jerry's kidding, he won't really put you on top of a Christmas tree," Karen told the baby, as she walked carefully to a chair and sat down.

"Morris says there's more flowers, stuffed toys ad cards piling up outside the gates of the White House," Tom murmured, coming to stand at Olivia's side. "Oscar keeps sending sniffer dogs and the guys with metal detectors to make sure there's no bombs hidden in there. Do you want me to tell him to give the toys to the orphanage and the flowers to the shelters?"

"Good idea. We couldn't fit all of that in here." Olivia glanced out the window where Fitz was giving man hugs to the Marine One crew, with Zeke grinning next to him. Then at Tom's mild cough, Olivia turned to face him quizzically.

"We have a surprise for you in the nursery, ma'am. If you hate it, we can change it."

"Tom, call me Olivia. We don't have to follow White House protocol anymore."

"Yes, ma'am."

With a wry smile, Olivia went up to the room she'd nominated for the nursery when the baby was old enough to start sleeping on her own. Opening the door to the strong smell of wet paint, she stared at blue walls and ceiling, decorated with rainbows, fat white clouds, smiling cartoon helicopters and a laughing yellow sun. The white cot had a mobile of helicopters dangling above it. Even the blue curtains had helicopters.

"The guys got carried away with the idea that Little Dove was born in a helicopter."

"Little Dove? Tom, that code name is perfect and this room is gorgeous!"

"We bought buckets of pink paint, if you changed your mind about the room. The guys are getting good at the handyman stuff with all the work the President, uh, ex-President has been sending our way. But the paint isn't dry, so I wouldn't touch anything. And we've fitted baby monitors in every room, so you'll hear her when she cries from anywhere in the house."

With a lump in her throat, Olivia settled for giving him a hug.

Tom almost smiled, then cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I'll be downstairs, if you need me."

Still with a lump in her throat, Olivia walked around the room, closely examining the murals, then a laugh escaped at the sight of a white rocking chair by the cot, which had the words 'Boss Lady' calligraphed in navy blue.

* * *

><p>"This Leader of the Free World stuff is going to keep me helluva busy," Zeke grumbled, getting ready to take his leave.<p>

Fitz laughed. "Don't do too much damage."

"You know me."

"Yeah, I do."

Zeke laughed, then seeing Olivia approach, he dropped his teasing demeanour to give her gentle hug. "You take care, little Momma, and take care of my little god-daughter."

"You'll do great," Olivia smiled, giving him a kiss on both cheeks.

"Any other advice?"

"Go all out, Zeke."

"Take no prisoners?"

"Nope."

Grinning Zeke turned to say goodbye to the rest of the family who'd followed Olivia out, giving each of them a hug. When it was Karen's turn, Fitz deftly reached for the baby as Zeke crouched down to tell her seriously, "You've got a job with me anytime you want, Little Miss Cool Under Pressure."

Karen grinned, laying her head on his shoulder as Zeke hugged her tight.

After a flurry of goodbyes, they stood waving until Marine One faded into the horizon.

"Dad, can I have the baby back?"

"Have you finished unpacking, Pumpkin?"

"Dad."

"Chores first, baby later."

"I've finished," Jerry said confidently, reaching for the baby, but dropped his hands when Rowan cleared his throat. "Jeez, old man, do you have to keep telling on me?"

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to," Jerry grumbled, then he swung Teddy up in his arms. "Hey, little dude, wanna help me unpack?"

"Play with bike."

"Yeah, same thing," Jerry promised, nudging Karen, looking slightly miffed, along with him.

"Come on," Felicia put an arm around Rowan. "We need to finish our unpacking too."

"I'm going to have to come up with a roster," Olivia murmured, slipping her arm around Fitz's waist as they followed the others back into the house. "So we all get a fair share of this little cutiepie."

"I'll make the roster."

"You're the reason we need a roster," she teased, rubbing her cheek against his arm as she stared down at the baby. Then leaning closer, she gasped, "Look, Fitz, is that a smile?!"

"When Teddy did that, the nurse said it was gas."

Olivia leaned over to kiss the baby's cheeks, whispering, "We're not getting any mean nurses for you." Then at his chuckle, she lifted her head to kiss him.

Then they both turned as the baby sneezed.

"Oh wow, her first sneeze!"

* * *

><p><strong>Afternoon News Bulletin<strong>

_"President Lucas Zeke made the shocking announcement that he has nominated Hailey Longfeather as America's next Vice President a___t his first media briefing with the White House Press Corps this afternoon_. Ms Longfeather, a public prosecutor who gained notoriety during the Faraway County police trial, has no political or military experience but constitutional experts say this won't be a legal barrier to her appointment if approved by a majority vote in both Houses of Congress. Ms Longfeather, a Native American, will be the first to hold the position of Vice President, and the first to become President if President Zeke were to resign before the election... _

_"The President will take questions from the public tonight, during his first live chat on social media, about Ms Longfeather's appointment and other matters of concern…_

_"President Zeke also confirmed that he intends to serve possibly the second shortest term as the President of the United States after William Henry Harrison who died of pneumonia on the 32__nd__ day of his presidency..."_

* * *

><p>"How did we get so much stuff?" Olivia groaned looking at yet more boxes on the floor.<p>

They'd been unpacking half the morning and all of the afternoon with Teddy riding in and out of their room on his tricycle, gleefully navigating the obstacle course of boxes and bags.

"Take a break, I'll get Bub it's almost feeding time again," Fitz said, heading for the stairs.

Olivia had barely finished feeding her, when Felicia turned up in the doorway. "Want me to look after her, while you finish unpacking?"

A short while later, Jerry brought the baby back saying she'd 'pooped'.

Olivia had just finished changing the baby's diaper, when Rowan turned up to say that he thought the baby needed some fresh air before nap time. As Rowan left with the baby, Teddy abandoned his bike and ran forward taking Rowan's hand as they made their way downstairs.

"Do you think we'll finish all this tonight," Olivia looked around, hands on hips after she returned from having disposed of the dirty diaper.

Fitz slipped his arms around her waist. "Let's make a rule that anything we haven't put away in an hour gets thrown out."

"You haven't found your golf clubs."

"Okay, everything after I find my golf clubs gets thrown out."

"I don't think so," she laughed, lifting on her tippy toes to kiss him.

He lifted her off her feet.

"Fitz…" she sighed huskily, sliding her arms around his neck.

"You are so gorgeous," he groaned against her lips, setting her back down on her feet so his hands could stroke over her back until they reached her butt.

Laughing she pushed out of his arms. "We're not doing that."

He pouted.

"Nope." She shook her head, laughing. "No, sexy times for at least a year."

"_A year_?!"

"It's negotiable."

At her cheeky grin, he made a grab for her but she side-stepped, backing away as he followed her with a look of serious intent.

"Fitz…"

"Livvie."

"You wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't what?"

Then Tom's voice came over the baby monitor, "Sir, we have a problem. There's an incident at the gates."

Fitz groaned, then sighed. "Tom, we're all civilians now."

Tom's response was interrupted by the sound of Olivia's ringing phone. Grabbing it from the night stand, she heard Quinn say urgently, "Olivia, you need to get down here! Abby is trying to get us all killed."

* * *

><p>When they turned up at the front gates, there was a secret service vehicle and a rental vehicle, parked nose-to-nose with all their doors open.<p>

Quinn had her hands up, Huck had his arms folded over his chest and Abby had her gun trained on four agents who had their guns pointed directly at her.

"OMG," Olivia rolled her eyes and slammed out of their new SUV, before Fitz had a chance to cut the engine.

"_Olivia!"_ Fitz yelled, then gritted his teeth and slammed out of the vehicle himself

He got to Olivia's side just as she yelled, "Abby, put that gun away, dammit!"

"They drew first!" Abby returned.

Fitz looked from Abby to the agents and back again. "Okay, guys, at the count of three everyone puts their weapons away. One…Two…Three."

The men started to lower their guns, then stopped when Abby didn't move.

"Abby!" Olivia yelled.

Abby reluctantly returned her gun to her bag, and the agents holstered their weapons.

"What were you thinking?" Olivia scolded, going over to hug Abby.

"That we could visit you without getting our heads blown off," Abby grumbled, returning the hug while glaring at the agents over Olivia's shoulder.

"We didn't get notified they would be arriving today, sir," one of the agents told Fitz.

"Well _ex-cooose_ me, I didn't know that we still had to follow White House protocol on a Vermont peach farm!" Abby glared.

Fitz cut in. "You cannot bring that gun into the house."

"It's safe in my bag."

"I've got four kids in the house."

"What about _their_ guns?" Abby nodded to the agents.

"These guys are trained."

"So am I." Abby zipped up her bag.

Still with her hands up, Quinn moved cautiously around the agents to approach Olviia and give her a hug. "We wanted to surprise you."

"We remembered you can't cook," Abby said.

"She said you wouldn't know much about looking after babies either," Quinn added.

"Where is she?" was all Huck wanted to know as he moved last to give Olivia a hug. A little later, Olivia gave a muffled laugh. "Okay that's enough. I need air!"

He released her instantly, stepping back.

"We finally have a baby in the family." Quinn smiled.

"It feels like we've been waiting forever for this baby to be born," Abby said. "Has she started pooping yet? Because you know I'm not good at the poopy stuff."

"You were awesome," Quinn told Olivia.

"The whole thing looked gross from the little I saw. I can only imagine what Jerry saw," Abby made a face.

"I had to turn the sound off, you sounded like you were being tortured. It sounded really bad," Huck said solemnly. "I would have knocked you out until you got to the hospital. It would have been painless."

"Thanks, Huck," Olivia chuckled, as Quinn stared at Huck, appalled. "Are you insane? What if something had happened to the baby?"

"Nothing happened to the baby, the baby's fine," Olivia reminded.

"Where is the baby?" Huck repeated.

"We-ell," Olivia glanced at Fitz who was staring at her grimly. "I think Baby G is with my dad unless Karen or Jerry have baby-napped her. She's our little Miss Popular right now."

* * *

><p>On the way back to the house in the SUV, Olivia glanced at Fitz. "What's with the face?"<p>

"Tom's getting you a bullet proof vest. You'll wear it at all times," he gritted, staring straight ahead.

"What?" She gasped a laugh, then seeing his granite jaw, she demanded, "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_?!" He turned, his face tortured and furious. "Those lunatics had pulled their guns on each other and you walked into the middle of it! Jeezus, Olivia, you are the love of my life, the mother of my children. Do you even know what that means?"

Olivia's glare lost heat and she dropped her gaze from his. "I'm sorry."

"Not good enough."

"Excuse me?"

"Be sorry," Fitz turned his attention back to the road. "Promise me you won't pull another stunt like that again."

"People aren't going to pull guns on us on a regular basis around here."

"We've been in Vermont six hours!"

"I'll tell Abby not to bring her gun."

"This is about you, not Abby!" He braked in front of the house, but when Olivia reached for the door handle, he ordered, "Stay!"

"I'm not Daisy," Olivia hissed when Fitz opened the door and lifted her down by her waist to the ground.

"Where are you going?" he called after as she strode into the house without a backward glance.

"To get the guest rooms ready. Is that okay, Joe?' she tossed over her shoulder.

Following her into the house, Fitz saw everyone edge away as Olivia made her way to the stairs. He fought down the initial urge to laugh, and the subsequent urge to grab and kiss her senseless, instead he watched her stomp upstairs and disappear out of sight.

"That must be a record even for you, Dad." Jerry came to stand next to Fitz, casually slinging an arm over his shoulders. "You've gone from sexy times, to frozen in less than ten minutes," At Fitz's confused face, he explained, "We all heard you talking to Mom on the baby monitor. You might want to turn that thing off next time you try to jump Mom's bones."

"Watch it, Jer, I'm in the mood to ground you."

"Whoa, that was just a piece of friendly advice, Dad." Jerry stepped back. "Take it or leave it."

As he sauntered off, Quinn came to stand next to Fitz dragging a large suitcase on its wheels. "Joe? Why'd Liv call you 'Joe'?"

"It's a long story," Fitz sighed.

"You've got time," Abby said, carrying three garment bags and pulling a smaller suitcase on wheels.

"Where's the baby?" Huck frowned, holding a gym bag.

* * *

><p>Fitz found Olivia changing the sheets on a double bed in one of the larger guest rooms.<p>

Without a word, he helped tuck in the corners on the opposite side of the bed, then pulled on a couple of pillowcases while she did the rest. He followed her into the second room where he did the sheets, while she managed the pillows.

"How long are we not talking?" He took the quilt cover from her and stuffed the quilt in by himself.

"I haven't decided." She tucked her hair behind an ear and disappeared out the door.

He found her taking towels from the airing cupboard in the corridor, then leaned on the bathroom doorjamb watching her take soap, fresh toothbrushes and toothpaste from the cabinet under the sink that had been stocked by the caretakers.

Task completed, when she tried to brush past him on her way out, he caught her by the waist, halting her exit. He ignored her stiffness as she stood within the circle of his arms. "Look at me."

She didn't.

Fitz pressed his face against hers. "You drive me crazy."

"Your apology should focus on you," she muttered.

"I'm not apologising." He bit back a smile. "I'm stating the obvious. You drive me crazy. I just don't know how to handle it well when you do."

"Your apology sucks."

"This is not an apology, Liv…" He tightened his arms around her when she tried to pull free. "Because _you_ should be the one apologising."

"_Me?_" Her head reared back.

"You." He pressed a soft kiss between her eyes, then down the slope of her nose. "I love you. You need to respect my feelings." He kissed the lips that parted to protest.

"Stop kissing me," she mumbled through the kiss. "You're distracting me."

"I..Love...You." He punctuated each word with a kiss.

"Fitz…"

He parted her lips, and deepened the kiss.

She gave a half-hearted protest but her arms were already creeping around his neck as he gathered her closer.

When they broke off the kiss, she whispered, her eyes still closed, "I wasn't trying to make you crazy."

"I know." He kissed her forehead.

Her lashes fluttered open. "Just so you know, this is not an apology either."

"Got it." His eyes crinkled with laughter.

She slipped her hands down from his neck to wrap them around his waist. "I can't promise I won't pull a stunt like that again, but next time, I'll wear a vest… if I know what's going down."

"Wait… did you just give me a disclaimer?"

She wrinkled her nose at him, trying not to grin.

He looked at her solemnly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

He grunted a laugh, kissing her again.

* * *

><p><strong>Late Night News Bulletin<strong>

_"President Zeke's first Community WebChat had to be abandoned after organisers pulled the plug on the racial and LGBT hate expressed live._

_"President Zeke said he did not regret his decision to speak with the community – it was regretful that the haters hijacked the forum. He stressed that the louder voices of hate should not be allowed to drown out more reasoned debate._

'_We have given people with hateful, ignorant views a bigger platform than they deserve – they may sell newspapers, they may sell magazines, and they may have an audience of like-minded bigots whom commercial advertisers love, but it's time we stopped promoting hatred as a form of entertainment. That's dangerous. Hate escalates. Hate kills, and the victims are almost always innocent.  
><em>

'_Some of the language I saw, my mama wouldn't tolerate in her house, and I will not tolerate that kind of language in my house, and until you get a new President, this is _my_ house.'_

_"President Zeke intends to set up a weekly community forum open to all members of the public, called 'Got a Problem, ask the Prez'. He added community standards of behaviour would be expected during these sessions…"_

* * *

><p>Leaving the games room where off-duty agents were getting beaten in a game of pool with Quinn, and passing the kitchen where Abby was getting Jerry and Rowan to help clean up, Fitz entered the living room and stood for a moment, listening to Karen and Felicia playing chopsticks on the piano, with the dogs snoozing on the rug, chairs and in front of the fireplace.<p>

Smiling, he made his way to the stairs and after a quick search, found Olivia upstairs in Teddy's room. She was reading his bedtime story while she fed the baby and he was turning the pages of his picture book – a little too quickly from the sound of it.

"…the End," Olivia said.

"The End?"

"Yes, The End."

"Read again," Teddy demanded.

"Okay. Jack had a dog named Spot and they loved to play in the rain—"

"Mommy, start at the start!"

With a soft chuckle, Fitz entered the room and took a seat beside Olivia, lifting Teddy onto his lap. "No cutting corners, Mommy."

"But I have the story memorised after three readings."

"Want me to read the story?"

"No, Mommy's turn," Teddy insisted.

Olivia gave Fitz an arch look, that made him chuckle. "I can multitask."

"I can see that," he murmured.

"Is everyone okay downstairs?"

"Everyone is fine, but I haven't seen Huck and Tom since dinner."

"They were talking technology and heading up to the loft that Tom has turned into his command centre."

"Should I be worried?"

"Maybe. I don't know. We'll find out soon, I guess." Olivia placed the baby over her shoulder and began patting her back.

Fitz turned to Teddy. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Not sleepy."

"I can see you yawning."

"Not sleepy," Teddy insisted. "Baby not sleeping."

Fitz exchanged a look with Olivia, who said drily, "I told you we were all running to this kid's schedule."

"We're going to have to pick a name."

"Betsey."

"Betsey? That's random… oh." Fitz said, softly. "We can name her Elizabeth, that was my mother's middle name."

Olivia smiled at Fitz. "I was thinking of asking the kids to each pick a name for her."

"Okay, but not Jerry."

"Fitz!" Olivia chuckled.

"Fizz!" Teddy chortled.

"See what you just did," Fitz rubbed his cheek over Teddy's hair.

Olivia nodded. "Teddy, what do you think we should call baby?"

"Bubby!" He said gleefully.

"I'm pretty sure he meant Barbara."

"Bubby!"

"Nope, he meant Bubby." Fitz grinned. "Don't look at me, this was your bright idea."

* * *

><p>Later that night, after a very long day, Fitz stepped into the shower feeling tired but happy. He'd just finished adjusting the shower controls to his liking when he heard the glass door slide open. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his expectations.<p>

"Hi," Olivia murmured.

"Hi." He turned to face her.

Olivia stepped closer with a naughty smile, leaning against him, spreading her hands over his chest.

Gathering her in a loose hug, he looked at her quizzically. "I thought we weren't having sex for a period that's still under negotiation."

"The moratorium on sexy times is still on," Olivia kissed his chin. "This is an apology."

"An apology?"

"A quickie apology, just in case Bubby wakes up."

He grunted a laugh, leaning down to kiss her. "I like your apologies."

"I haven't started yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"It's been so long... I don't think I remember what to do."

"You don't, huh?"

"Nope."

"Would you like a guided tour down memory lane?"

She snuffled a laugh as he kissed her with a wicked grin.

"Livvie…" he whispered against her mouth.

"Mmm…."

"Is the quickie negotiable….?"

"Mmmaybe…"

* * *

><p>Later, snuggled up in each other's arms, Olivia glanced away from the starry night sky seen through the skylight, to see Fitz staring at her with a soft smile on his face.<p>

"What?" she whispered.

Fitz opened his mouth to respond, then paused.

Olivia watched as he shifted away from her to turn the baby monitor off before gathering her back in his arms, saying in a deep soft drawl that made her toes curl, "We're in Vermont."

"We're in Vermont." She smiled, inching closer to kiss his jaw.

"We're in Vermont… as a family… just like I imagined."

At the catch in his voice, Olivia glanced up and saw that his eyes were getting teary.

"Aww Fitz…" Rolling him onto his back, she cupped his face between her hands and kissed him slowly, sweetly.

When she lifted her head to gaze down at him, his gaze was soft. "I got emotional there for a moment."

She stroked her fingers through his hair, smiling.

"It's hormonal. I caught it from you."

"Shut up," Olivia chuckled, as he drew her down for a kiss.

"Livvie," Fitz smiled against her lips. "I'm offended by your tone."

"Yeah, I can feel how offended you are," she giggled naughtily. "No more quickies for you tonight."

"How about a slowie?"

She hooted a laugh, then groaned when she woke the baby.

* * *

><p>AN ; This chapter was slow going, took a lot of rewrites and possibly could do with more, but I need to move on! Thank you for the name suggestions, and don't worry about speaking your mind. I usually do, when I don't feel like a dysfunctional lemming caught between my true feelings and 'good behaviour'. BTW, I couldn't read all your reviews for nearly a week, Clio1792 put in a complaint on behalf of us fanfiction writers on the same dodgy ISP. Fortunately, I had access to your reviews on email – so all was not lost!

Now confession time about my sloppy research: apparently Fitz couldn't simply nominate Zeke – he had to get Congressional approval with a simple majority in both Houses. Big 'ooops!' – apologies to my readers who let me get away with a lot in this story, I usually do try to have some hint of fact in all the improbable plot twists, but on Zeke's Veep status there was none!


	58. A Criminal and A Baby

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better. **

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p>Olivia woke to silence and automatically glanced towards the cot. Seeing it empty, she started up in alarm, only to pause when a gentle voice murmured, "Liv, she's here with me."<p>

Heart still pounding, Olivia turned to see the baby fast asleep, curled up on Fitz's bare chest, his hands holding her steady.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Olivia leaned over to kiss a fat little arm and curled up fist. Then drew back to stroke a fingertip over a soft round cheek.

"She was fretful, and I thought holding her might calm her down."

Olivia leaned over to kiss Fitz softly, then lay her head on his shoulder. "She's so tiny."

"Not much bigger than my hand." Fitz murmured, smiling. "Guess she'll grow up to be feisty like you."

Olivia smiled, staring at the sleeping baby. "What are we going to name her?"

* * *

><p>James found Cyrus in the front living room facing the neglected ruins of his garden, barely visible in the first light of the morning.<p>

"You have time to make it as good, even better than it was."

Cyrus turned, with a puzzled frown. "Make what good?"

"Your garden."

"Ah, yes," Cyrus brow cleared and he turned to face the garden again. "What are you doing awake?"

"I wondered where you were."

"Did you think I'd made a run for it?"

"To the end of the garden and back? It's cold out there in the tool shed," James said mildly, talking a seat nearby.

"This really is a prison in more ways than one."

"A prison of your own making."

"And it isn't cheap," Cyrus said as if James hadn't spoken. "I've been thinking about the cost of being under house arrest: we pay the bills for food, maintenance and, _AND _a weekly rental fee of $150 to have a damned monitor tied to my ankle."

"Just think of what that's like for innocent people who took a plea bargain because they couldn't afford a good lawyer. Imagine having to pay a $150 a week, without the benefit of a hedge fund or an understanding husband."

Cyrus shot a look from beneath his brows, then released a heavy sigh. "Did Olivia respond?"

James nodded. "She loved the Diaper Cake, said it's been a lifesaver."

Cyrus grunted. "Ella will miss them, especially Teddy. I remember the circus they made out o his birth, calling him America's baby."

"Now the Grants have a new baby. I wonder what they'll name her?"

"Ella's Christening was at the White House. At least, she'll have that to remember."

"Ella was a baby."

"We have pictures to remind her, that the President of the United States was her godfather."

"He _was_ the President but he _is_ and remains her godfather, and Olivia is Ella's godmother. Funny, how things have worked out."

"Yes."

Silence fell between the two men.

* * *

><p>"Cyrus wrote me an email."<p>

"Oh," Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping Fitz and then tiptoed out of the room with the phone balanced between her ear and shoulder and the baby in her arms. "I didn't know you were penpals."

"We're not." Olivia heard the grin in Zeke's voice. "The guy wants me to know the cost of home arrests are – and I quote – 'prohibitive', and get this – he says 'out of consideration for the poor'. Hell, Liv, I didn't think $150 a week would put him on food stamps."

"Maybe he's trying to focus your attention on the people who really can't afford to rent out ankle monitors?"

"Like a rattlesnake trying to get to me focus on his rattle instead of his fangs?"

"You remember Marissa Alexander, the woman who fired a gun to scare off her abusive husband? She'll pay $17,000 – give or take a few dollars – out of her own pocket for the two years she'll be under house arrest."

"$17,000? Hell, the annual wage at $7.25 an hour is a little more than $15,000."

"The $17,000 is for two years, Zeke. But compare that to the $50,000 it would have taken the government to keep her in prison."

"But how is she going to find the money? It ain't easy getting a job with her prison record and ankle-monitor."

"Now we're on the same page."

There was a pause, then Zeke said slowly, "And yesterday all I heard was how tough it's getting on Wall Street guys because of rising labour costs. Man, I don't know how Fitz kept a straight face during these meetings. I really want to give those guys a wake-up call."

"Well, Zeke, guess who's President now?"

There was another pause, followed by a chuckle. "It doesn't hurt to get a little reminder now and then."

* * *

><p>After ending her conversation with Zeke, Olivia slipped the phone back into her tracksuit pants pocket, then looked down at the baby who was giving her an unblinking stare. "You look like you've got an opinion, Bubby. How about you share it with me?" The baby uttered strange snorting noises as Olivia planted several kisses on her face. "You think I should be a full-time consultant to your Uncle Zekes? That's not a bad idea, honey pie. You want to have a chat to your father about that. No? I didn't think so. Okay, how about we go raid the kitchen instead? Yeah, I can see you like that idea. But we need to be very, very quiet because everyone else is asleep."<p>

But making her way to the kitchen, Olivia realised that was a lie.

"Mom, we're out of milk," Jerry poked his head out of the fridge as she paused in the doorway.

"And peanut butter," said Huck from the pantry.

"We need eggs and bread too," said Quinn, checking the bread bin.

"For a peach farm, you sure don't have any peaches," Abby shook her head as she poured coffee into a mug. "I was thinking of making a peach cobbler for dessert tonight."

"What are you all doing up?"

"Lindsay snores," Abby said.

"Abigail pushed me out of bed after she stole all the blankets."

"I had a nightmare, but all the noise Lindsay made falling onto the floor, woke me."

"I could have broken my neck."

"If only."

"Did you have a nightmare too?" Olivia asked Huck.

"I was working on… something."

"Jerry?"

"Yeah, I was helping Pete with his homework." When every eye turned to stare at him, Jerry blushed and muttered, "Okay, we were playing a video game."

"So you've been up all night?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I'll crash after breakfast."

"You won't be getting any breakfast. There's no food," Abby told him.

"Okay, make a list. I'll get the car keys and the baby pouch."

"What about the baby?"

"She has to come with me, it'll be feeding time soon, and I don't want her to scream her little lungs out if I'm not around."

"We'll go in the rental. Huck can drive." Quinn decided.

* * *

><p><strong>Getting to the store<strong>

"It would have been quicker if we walked," Abby muttered.

"There's a baby onboard." Huck said as they crawled along the main road.

"She won't mind if you go just a little bit faster," Olivia assured from her seat between Abby and Quinn.

**At the store**

"Maybe you should stay in the car, Liv."

"I'm not staying in the car, Abby."

"But you have to feed the baby."

"Not right now. Besides I have the credit card."

"I can take your card, Mom."

"Cute, Jer, very cute."

**In the store**

"Oooh, caramelised popcorn. I haven't had that in a while."

Quinn put the snack can back on the shelf. "Liv, you're lactating. You don't want to feed the baby junk. I've got a list of all the foods you should be eating – rich in iron, protein and calcium."

"Wow, you researched my diet?"

"Your dad did. He gave Abby and me a lecture on what you should be eating."

"Why am I not surprised?"

**Arriving at the house**

"Do you think we've been robbed? All the lights are on in the house."

As the car stopped in front of the house, Fitz, Tom, Rowan and several agents ran out of the house.

"What's going on? Has there been a break in?" Olivia asked, holding the baby tightly to her chest.

"You left without telling anyone," Fitz gritted

"I had Huck." Olivia looked at him, puzzled.

"And me."

"And Jerry. And Quinn and Abby."

"I've got my gun on me."

As Fitz continued to glower at her, Olivia added, "We were out of food."

"Milk." Jerry supplied.

"Milk," Olivia repeated.

"And peanut butter," Huck said.

"And peanut butter."

* * *

><p><strong>News on the Hour, Every Hour…<strong>

_Vermont's newest residents caused something of a stir at a neighbourhood co-op supermarket today, when staff and patrons caught former First Lady Olivia Grant and her newborn shopping in the early hours of the morning._

_Amateur video footage shows Mrs Grant in a track suit, carrying her new born in a baby pouch wondering through the produce aisles._

"… _I saw her buying oranges..."_

"… _I was this close. No, I couldn't see the baby, only her bobble hat…" _

"… _They were talking about popcorn…"_

"…_The redhead kept asking if it was feeding time…"_

"…_I thought it was the President, that boy looks just like his dad…"_

"…_She was lovely, gave me her autograph when she was signing for the receipt. My Ma is crazy about the Grants…"_

"… _That baby is so adorable, a gorgeous little thing. I'm going to vote for him, you know, Fitzgerald Grant. He quit? Why'd he quit? Oh that's a shame…"_

**In Other News…**

_For a leader who'll be gone in a blink of an eye, President Lucas Zeke sure is letting everyone know who's boss. The President today signed an executive order for all police precincts to have a community oversight board. He said the boards would report directly to the Department of Justice on complaints of police misconduct, and the FBI would investigate. _

_President Zeke also said there is an imperative to break the 'unholy alliance' between corporations and community policing._

"_Right now we have an unholy alliance between police departments and private companies, getting rich on the desperation of poor people. Poor people are doing jail time because they can't pay their fines for jaywalking or rolling a stop sign; poor people are turning their homes into prisons because a private corporation profits from tracking your every move with the help of an ankle monitor…_

"_Poor people in this country are not working to get ahead, to get by or even feed their starving kids; poor people in this country are working to pay a corporation that's adding private interest to the public debt of a police fine. Poor people in this country are skipping meals to pay corporations for the privilege of turning their homes into prisons, cutting the cost of incarceration from State Budgets; poor people in this country are being pushed further into poverty because the proceeds of crime have been privatized. _

"_We need to break this cycle – not just the cycle of poverty, but the cycle of profit and policing, and we need the community get involved, and I aim to help them in every way that I can." _

_Meanwhile Congress has yet to approve of President Zeke's Vice Presidential nominee, Hailey Longfeather. Insiders on Capitol Hill say they cannot justify the expense for mere tokenism._

* * *

><p>Olivia paced the upstairs family room, softly humming to the baby, who was fighting sleep with both fists in the air.<p>

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Olivia pause, but the steps were light, not the firm purposeful tread belonging to Fitz.

"Olivia," Felicia appeared, carrying a large box. "The Secret Service has gone through this package from the General Society of Mayflower Descendants. It's not dangerous." She placed the box on the nearest table and held her hands out for the baby.

Inside the box was an ivory silk and antique lace christening dress, accompanied by a lace and ivory silk baby bonnet. "It's gorgeous!"

"That dress will go well with the moccasins from UAINE." Felicia glanced at Olivia, who smiled.

"Yes, they'll be perfect. Bubby is a very lucky girl."

"Have we got a name for her besides 'Bubby' and 'Cutie Pie'?"

Olivia opened her mouth to give a snappy response, then seeing the way Felicia was smiling down at the baby, she swallowed her ire and said evenly, "No, we have too many choices."

"Fitz mentioned that you were thinking of naming her Elizabeth after his mother."

"And Betsey, the slave who survived inhuman odds."

"Sometimes, Olivia, it doesn't do to dwell on the past."

This time Olivia didn't hold back. "I want my daughter to know the strength she has inherited from Betsey, to prevent her from making heroes of the men who enslaved us." She paused, before adding, "With all the support you've given to the Native American Indians of New England and their National Day of Mourning, you should get where I'm coming from."

Felicia opened her mouth, then closed it and an awkward silence followed, where Olivia took time folding the Christening dress and Felicia fussed with the blanket swaddling the baby. Then suddenly Felicia blurted, "If Fitz is naming this child after his mother, you should give her one of Louise's names."

Olivia stared. "You don't mind?"

"Olivia, Louise was your mother. My feelings don't come into it."

"No," Olivia agreed, but bit off what she'd been about to add when Huck appeared at the door.

"It's my turn to look after Bubby… I won't drop her," Huck assured Felicia, who appeared reluctant to hand over the baby. "I'm good at handling delicate objects and I have steady hands – I was trained to disarm bombs."

"It's okay, Felicia. Huck knows the difference between Bubby and a bomb."

"Yes, this one poops." Huck said solemnly, then grinned.

* * *

><p>"So has Aunt Liv come up with a name for Grant Newbie?" Peter asked via video chat.<p>

"No, and Dad won't let me pick one either."

"No offence, Jer, but you need to have a different name for your kid sister, or she won't know who your Dad is yelling at when he gets mad at you."

"Maybe that'll make him stop yelling at me."

Peter exchanged a look with Karen, who changed the subject. "How did you get your name, Peter?"

"Pretty sure my grandmother picked it. That's my dad's mother. She ran the family business and she was technically my dad's boss." Peter paused. "Do you think Aunt Liv will let Professor Pope choose a name?"

Karen and Jerry looked at each other then back at Peter. "Nope, uh-uh, I don't think so." Then Jerry added, "You're coming early for the Christening, right? The Little Dudette needs to meet her honorary bro."

"Yeah, do you think Grant Newbie will have a name by then?"

"If Mom and Dad start speaking to each other… maybe," Jerry muttered.

"What did you do?"

"Hey, what makes you think I had anything to do with it?!"

"Jerry got Mom to run to the store for milk," Karen explained. "At like four in the morning."

"I went with Mom."

"Yeah, but no one told Dad, and he was about to call the FBI."

"Dad needs to chill."

"You should have left a note. Dad thought you'd been kidnapped."

"In Vermont?" Jerry rolled his eyes.

Peter cut in smoothly, "You know if your parents can't decide on a name, Grant Newbie can have mine."

There was a pause at the shift in conversational gear, then Karen giggled, "But you're a boy."

"I had a girl's name for my milkname, it's like a nickname, until I started school. Giving a boy a girl's name helps ward off evil spirits."

"Then shouldn't we give the little Dudette a boy's name?" Jerry frowned.

"Girls don't get evil spirits."

"We just get boys with guns holding us hostage in school."

Jerry put his arm around Karen, drawing her close. "Kaz has a point. How do we keep real life crazies away?"

"When your dad figures it out, he'll probably tell you," Peter smiled.

* * *

><p>"So how long are you going to give my daughter the silent treatment," Rowan murmured, while peering through his reading glasses at the instruction manual in his hands. He was helping Fitz put together a toy train track for Teddy in what Olivia called Fitz's Man Den.<p>

"I'm staying away until I calm down enough to avoid yelling at her."

"Think you'll get there before Christmas?"

"Maybe."

"The Community Oversight Board of Zeke's is a good idea, but eleventh-hour Executive Orders make the execution of those orders someone else's problem, and will most likely be repealed by the next President."

"Zeke is doing the best he can in the short time he has."

"Makes you wonder what the other guy did while he was in office." Catching the glance Fitz shot him, Rowan murmured, "You left the job half-done, Fitzgerald. You should run again."

Fitz looked up from laying tracks on the floor. "You want me to return to the White House?"

"Olivia believes in you're the only man for the job, and I respect my daughter's judgement."

"I'll tell her that."

"At Christmas? You might want to wait until April Fool's Day."

The two men exchanged a smirk, then Rowan went back to the manual and Fitz went back to searching for missing pieces.

"So have we decided on a name for the little one yet?"

"Elizabeth after my mother and Betsey."

"Ah," Rowan nodded. "She has more than one grandmother, you know. I believe Felicia has reminded my daughter of this fact."

"Felicia?"

"The female mind is a mysterious thing."

Fitz cracked a laugh. "You can say that again."

He fell guiltily silent when Olivia poked her head through the door and asked if they wanted soup and salad, or grilled toasted sandwiches because she was on lunch duty, after giving Abby a break.

Rowan said promptly, "How about Pizza? I'll make the call."

"Dad, I can make sandwiches without burning the house down."

"I'll help," Fitz started to get up.

"No, you finish what you're doing. I'll be fine." Olivia disappeared.

As Fitz started to sit down again, Rowan murmured, "You're not going to let her make those sandwiches by herself."

"She wants me to."

"She does not."

"No?"

"No."

* * *

><p>Olivia had begun slicing bread, when Fitz turned up in the kitchen. Seeing that she was intent on ignoring him, he silently collected sandwich spreads, cheese and other fixings and placed them on the table. Still without a word, they managed to get a sandwich-making process going.<p>

"Hey, Mom, Pete said…" Jerry paused in the doorway. "What are you guys doing?"

"Making sandwiches," Fitz said, cutting a ham and cheese sandwich in half.

"Brrrr….it sure is c-c-cold in here," Jerry rubbed his arms. "Let me get my coat, and I'll help."

He ran off only to appear a few minutes later in his coat, scarf and hat pulled down low over his brow.

"Very funny, Jer," Olivia murmured, fighting a smile, as she buttered another slice of bread. "You can be the sandwich filler."

"Yes, ma'am Mom."

Karen appeared with Teddy a few minutes later. "Teddy wants chocolate. Felicia told him he could have one piece if he finished all his broccoli, and carrots."

"She bribed the little dude?" Jerry pretended to be shocked.

"Why are you wearing your winter coat?" Karen quizzed.

"Choclatt!" Teddy demanded.

"Did you finish all your broccoli and carrots?" Fitz asked Teddy.

Teddy nodded.

"All of it? Every single piece?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, bud, you can have chocolate." Fitz turned to Olivia. "Where's the chocolate?"

"Umm…"

They all went looking for chocolate, with Jerry abandoning his winter gear halfway through the search. Then while Teddy was getting chocolate all over his face, sitting on the kitchen table; the rest of them went back to lunch preparations.

"Jerry, you can't make jam and cheese sandwiches."

"Mom, you liked the ones I made before."

"I was pregnant, Jer." Then as Jerry shoved a freshly made sandwich in her face, she took a bite. "Okay, it still tastes good."

"So one for me, one for Mom…"

"And me," Karen said.

"And me!" Teddy shouted with chocolate all over his face.

"Teds, you can have half of mine," Olivia said.

"Dad?"

"I'll pass."

"Next up, sweet dill pickle and peanut butter."

"Jerry…" Fitz began.

"But…"

"No."

"Dad, at least try it before you knock it …. yeah, right? I told you."

They made sandwiches, three kinds of salad: bean, green and pasta – all out of pre-packaged containers – and tomato soup out of an entire shelf of cans, with Olivia stirring the pot and Karen standing on a chair next to her, to make sure it looked and tasted all right.

"Jeez, Mom, you can cook." Jerry teased.

Olivia shared a giggle with Karen, managing to avoid eye contact with Fitz who was cleaning chocolate and jam from Teddy's face.

* * *

><p>Much later lying on the grass beside Abby and Quinn, their hands resting on their full stomachs, Olivia said happily, "Admit it, lunch was edible."<p>

"It was okay" Abby muttered, her eyes covered by sun-glasses.

"It was more than okay. I was expecting popcorn," Quinn mumbled from beneath a floppy sun hat covering her face. "I especially loved the pickle sandwiches."

"I'll tell Jerry." Olivia rubbed her bare feet on the grass.

"Jerry?" Quinn lifted the corner of her floppy hat.

"Jerry."

"Oh boy."

"I think the baby's hungry."

Olivia turned to see Huck approach with the baby in his arms. "I'm not surprised; she was asleep during her regular feeding time."

Huck knelt down before Olivia, carefully transferring the baby into her arms. "She's been trying out her crying skills."

On cue, the baby gave a cry, followed by another one.

Just then an upstairs window was thrown open and Jerry yelled, "Huck, have you got a minute? Pete's got a question about your video game!"

"Yeah, sure." Huck shot to his feet and jogged towards the house.

"Huck's been really keen on baby-sitting duty." Quinn sighed. "It's really cute."

"I thought he'd have had enough before lunch. I didn't think he'd want Bubby's company after lunch too." Olivia lifted the baby up to kiss her face, but changed her mind at the wail she got in response. "Okay, okay. You're hungry, no kisses."

"Tell me you're not going to pull a boob out and start feeding her out here?" Abby muttered.

"No, I won't tell you that."

"Is she flashing her boob?" Abby asked Quinn.

Quinn pushed up the brim of her hat. "Define boob-flashing?"

Abby pushed up her sunglasses with a fingertip. Then tipped them back with a groan, "Olivia."

"Abby, breast feeding is the most natural thing in the world."

"More natural than carrying a gun in your bag," Quinn murmured.

"We're not talking about guns."

"Speaking of guns—" Olivia began.

"We weren't." Abby cut her off.

"Speaking of guns, you can't have a gun in the house, Abz."

"It's okay, Huck disabled it," Quinn murmured.

"What?" Abby ripped her glasses off, and sat up. "Huck sabotaged my gun?"

"Fitz would approve," Olivia murmured as Quinn retreated under her hat again.

Abby glared at Olivia, then frowned. "What's that on the baby's leg?"

The blanket covering the baby had loosened to reveal a band around the baby's ankle.

"Dammnit, Huck!" Olivia muttered under her breath.

"Guess Fitz would approve of that too, huh?"

* * *

><p>"Huck! We need to have a word!"<p>

As the door slammed open, the kids and Huck turned to stare open mouthed at Abby.

"We need to speak to Huck in private," Quinn said mildly.

"Uh, sure!" Jerry scrambled up off the floor, taking Karen with him then returned a second later to unplug the the laptop and take it away, with Peter still on the screen.

When the four adults were left, three glaring at the fourth on the floor, Huck muttered, "Do we have to do this now, I'm on the last level of this game. If I quit now, I'll lose all my points."

"Huck!"

"Okay, okay," he paused the game on the big screen television and stood. "Do I need a lawyer?"

"This is no joke," Olivia scolded. "You put a tracking device on Bubby. Is that thing dangerous?"

"It's like the one that Cyrus has."

"He's a criminal!" Quinn glared at Huck.

"There are people wearing tracking devices because they want to," Huck said solemnly. "It helps them keep track of their sleep patterns and how many times they ate."

"Those people are letting Big Brother in on their every move by choice," said Olivia.

"The baby is in a house full of people and you weren't sure who she was with, that first day we arrived here. This way you can keep track of her at all times. I'll show you." He pulled out his phone and opened an app. "See, here she is, downstairs."

"It says Tom on the screen." Olivia frowned.

"I synchronised cell phone trackers with this app. Tom suggested it."

"Tom's in on this?"

"Yeah. He said it would avoid the kind of stress attack he had this morning, when his guys fell asleep on the job. He wanted me to make one for you too."

"No."

"Okay."

"So we're all part of this baby tracking network?" Quinn mused.

"Yeah, except the two people who refuse to carry a phone with them – Professor Pope and his wife Felicia, so I guess we'll have to guess which one she's with when no name appears." Then glancing at Olivia's set face, he murmured, "Have you got your phone? I can load the app now."

"Who has access to this information? I don't want potential kidnappers to hack the database and know where we are at all times of the night or day."

"I've secured the data, Liv. You know me."

"Yes, I do know you."

"Oh, right. So what Huck means is that the information is safe until some enemy agent captures and tortures him to reveal all the passcodes to bypass security." They turned to look at Quinn. "What? You think people don't get tortured for information? Isn't that what Guantanamo is all about?"

At that point, Abby who'd been fuming in silence, demanded, "Excuse me, can we talk about my gun?"

"You can't have a gun in the house, Abby," Olivia said, leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Olivia was on her down to give Tom a piece of her mind, when she met Fitz on the stairs with the baby in his arms.<p>

"Where's Tom?" Olivia said reaching for the baby.

"Fort Knox." Fitz murmured, referring to one of the barns which had been converted to a residential and relaxation area, away from the house, for Tom and his team.

"He's not going to escape that easy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Huck has put a tracking device on Bubby, and Tom thought it would be a good idea if I had one too," Then seeing Fitz's expression, she added, "Don't even think about it."

* * *

><p>Fitz followed her upstairs to the bedroom. "Can we call a truce?" he asked, closing the door.<p>

"Why? You'll only get mad at me the next time I act like an ordinary citizen and not an inmate in the crown jewel of America's prison system."

Fitz released a noisy sigh. "Olivia, there are a lot of lunatics out there. That reminds me—"

"Huck disabled Abby's gun."

"He did?"

"Yep."

Fitz padded towards her, purposefully. "Olivia."

Olivia turned to him hands, on hips.

He slipped his arms through the spaces between her arms and hips, pulling her close. "Stop glaring at me."

"I'm not glaring at you."

"Then what do you call this?" He rubbed his nose over her frown.

She smoothed her brow and gave him an arch look.

Then they both turned at the sound of a snore.

"She even snores like you." Fitz rested his cheek on her hair.

"I don't snore," Olivia returned without heat, smiling down at the baby fast asleep, on her back, her arms akimbo.

"We might as well sneak in a little nap ourselves while she's out," Fitz drew back, taking Olivia's hands in his.

She barely resisted when Fitz tugged her down onto the bed to be cuddled in his arms.

"So I understand we have a few more names for Bubby, thanks to Felicia. I like her suggestion."

"Me too. I'd like Bubby to have a connection to my Mom, Louise Grace Mae."

"How about Elizabeth Louise?"

"Elizabeth Mae."

"She has more Grace than Mae - Elizabeth Grace Grant."

"Elizabeth Grace Pope-Grant. I want her to have a piece of me too, beside the piece of you."

"Livvie, she has lots of pieces of us in her DNA."

"Poor kid. The DNA of a prison warden and escapee all in the one body."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Liv, don't make me feel bad about wanting to protect you."

"There's protecting and protecting," she griped, then gasped when he rolled her onto her back but kept his weight off her by balancing on his arms.

"What?" Olivia whispered as he studied her face, his eyes soft.

"Do I look older?"

"Older than what?"

"Older than I did last night?"

"No…why?" she frowned.

"I literally aged a 100 years when I found you gone this morning."

"Fitz!" she smacked his shoulder.

"That is no way to treat a geriatric."

"I hate you," she groaned a laugh.

"I believe you." He rolled away so abruptly, he left her bemused.

"Fitz…?"

When he didn't answer, she lifted herself on top of him and took his face in his hands. "You don't mean that?"

Seeing him remain stubbornly silent, she kissed him softly. "Take it back."

He didn't.

"Fitz!" she glared at him. "Take it back!"

"Kiss me and I'll consider it," A smile tugged at his lips.

Her glare turned mutinous.

He gusted a sigh. "Okay, I take it back."

"Meanie," she muttered, rolling off him to lie on her side, with her back to him.

"You really don't do apologies well," he grunted a laugh, curling himself around her, burying his lips against her neck.

"You don't do Average Joe well either…" She paused, before adding, "Carlita will be here in the morning. She's going to help us transition into normal life."

He lifted his head, leaning over to meet her gaze. "Glad you discussed this with me."

"Pot kettle black, Mister."

"What?'

"Remember the times you sicced the Marines on me to make sure I was taking my naps?"

A smile tugged at his mouth. "So this is payback?"

"Yep."

He flopped onto his back, hauling her onto his body. "I should have stayed President."

"That's what I've been saying."

"Sneaky."

"Mm, so are those hands. You're still in solitary confinement for another six weeks."

"How about I let your hands wander over me?"

"Nope."

"Why not? Bubby's asleep."

"I'm thinking of your 152-year old heart."

He snorted a laugh. "This old ticker still has plenty of juice."

"I don't want to risk it. At your advanced age, I'd rather have quantity over quality."

"Listen, Mrs Smartypants, in six weeks I'll get my own payback."

"Promises, promises."

"You can count on it," he said huskily, tightening his arms around her.

Smiling, she darted a quick kiss to his lips, before settling down to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN: So I have to thank September Mom for her tutorials on how Olivia would feel, physically, post-childbirth. No sex for at least six weeks! And no fooling around for her, just him. I really appreciated the info as I've been doing research on what people have said on web forums!

Also glad that she's given me a pass on the fact that I do more research on politics than birthing and mothering!

Yes, I am trying to get the Grants back into the White House because these Vermont chapters are a struggle (I have no idea how I wrote 5500+ words for this chapter, as I've mostly stared into space for the last 3wks trying to find inspiration!).


	59. Secrets and Spies

**This story is inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors – Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn**

**NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

><p><strong>World News Update…<strong>

_Just when you thought the fizz had gone from the US Presidential Election, potential voters say they want Fitz back in the White House. Days after America's first 'independent' quit the top job, we hear that Mr Fitzgerald Grant is still winning the hearts and minds of voters. A recent poll puts Mr Grant streets ahead as the preferred candidate with at least two-thirds of voters. That's bad news for the contenders in the traditional two-horse race…._

* * *

><p>Carlita arrived the next morning with her kids, just as Fitz received a call from Zeke.<p>

"You take the call, and I'll take Bubby." Olivia reached for the baby in Fitz's arms.

Then as he disappeared with Tom, she went downstairs to greet the new arrivals.

When Carlita re-emerged from a melee of kids, dogs and various adults, she gave Olivia a second hug, smiling widely. "Vermont is good for you… you look so happy and relaxed."

"Don't tell Fitz that!"

Carlita laughed. "It's all right. My listeners feel the same way you and I do." She paused, looking around. "Where is Fitz?"

"Zeke called. Something important, but Fitz should be down soon."

"And the baby?"

"Bubby? I just gave her to Jerry but …. hmm… let's see," Olivia pulled out her phone. "It's okay she's still with Jerry. Guess he followed the scent of your banana bread into the kitchen."

Carlita laughed, until her eldest son, who'd been petting Daisy and Darth, went to stare at Olivia's phone. "You _bugged_ the baby? Cool!"

Carlita's smile vanished. "You bugged the _baby_? Cara, isn't this NSA surveillance thing going a bit too far?"

Olivia chuckled. "I didn't like the idea either, but now I'm seeing the benefits."

* * *

><p><strong>Not the Onion News<strong>

"_Democrat Presidential nominee Samuel Reston has taken another hit in the polls with a drop of 17% from the previous week, to leave him with a single-digit approval rating in the lead-up to the Presidential election. His nearest rival, Mrs Sally Langston, isn't doing much better with only a five-point lead. _

"_The man that 87% of voters want to see back in the White House is the man who just quit office – Mr Fitzgerald Thomas Grant. Pollsters said the former President's name could not be removed from the survey which has been running for close to a month, and the alert to say he resigned made no difference. Most people who took part in the survey – a total of 20,350 – want Mr Grant to be America's next President …"_

* * *

><p>Fitz picked up the phone in Tom's office in the loft.<p>

"What's up?"

"You got a name for the little princess?"

Fitz chuckled. "Is that the big emergency? Yeah, we've got a name."

"Why do I get the feeling that Lucasette is off the table?"

Fitz smiled, taking out his cell phone. "I'm sending you pictures of her that I took this morning. That's our little Elizabeth Grace."

"She looks like a little Gracie."

"Yeah, she sure does." Fitz put his cell phone away, and gripped the secure line receiver. "So what's happened?"

There was a pause, then Zeke sighed, "I've got something on Sam Reston. Ex-sergeant Cornelius Reynolds – aka Mack to you and me – has been writing me. He says his buddy Hollis Doyle is going crazy in his SuperMax prison cell. Doyle ain't seen sunlight since he's been locked up. The prison administrators feel sensory deprivation is the best punishment for a guy who tried to take the United States to war."

"Does Mack want me to plead Doyle's case with the authorities? Get him onto that work programme we talked about?"

"Hell no, you can't be doing shit like that for the man who killed your career." Zeke paused again, then released an even heavier sigh. "Mack's made a statement to the Attorney General. He's alleged that Samuel Reston wanted to find a permanent solution to the Grant problem. That problem would be you and Olivia."

"A permanent solution?'

"Reston wanted you and Liv dead. Doyle talked him out of it. And Doyle got Langston involved because he knew she wouldn't want your blood on her hands."

Fitz sat down slowly.

"Hey, man, are you okay?"

"Can anyone else corroborate this? You know Langston won't talk."

"Langston doesn't have to. We contacted that ex-staffer of Reston's who got a job with Olivia's lawyer friend. We asked her what she knew, and she sent us back a USB stick full of audio recordings. They're all Reston's conversations with the Coshes. Reston taped the conversations as insurance – my guess is life insurance – but he needed this chick to transfer the recordings from his phone to an encrypted file on his computer. And she made copies for herself without telling him."

Fitz gave a wry smile. "So you're going to throw the book at Reston?"

"Yeah, it's a question of timing. Should we wait until before or after the election? The end result is going to be the same."

"Sally's going to be President."

"Yeah."

* * *

><p><strong>Panel Discussion<strong>

"_Eighty-five per cent of voters want Grant back in the White House."_

"_The man quit the White House."_

"_People don't care that he quit, they want him back."_

"_Leave aside the fact, they want him back, let's take a look at the remainder of the vote for our Presidential candidates – Langston got ten per cent and Reston is left with five. Either way, America is on its way to elect its most unpopular President in history…"_

* * *

><p>Carlita smiled at the baby in her arms. "I feel like I know her so well. Maybe because we all watched her come into this world."<p>

"_We_?" Olivia frowned.

"One point five billion, Mom, and counting. That's what Jerry said," Karen murmured softly, as she picked up one of Poppy's puppies and gave it to Carlita's youngest daughter to hold. Jerry and Carlita's sons were racing Teddy on his bicycle on the patio.

"Oh, no, no," Carlita shook her head. "I did not mean half of India and China; I was talking about everyone at the radio station. We watch Olivia give birth on the giant screen in the staff room. It was better than a telenovela."

Olivia wrinkled her nose. "Should I wear a mask before going out in public?"

"No, querida. From the camera angle, it was very tasteful; all we saw was the baby when Fitz held her up and she was put in your arms."

"Speaking of Fitz…" Olivia glanced at her watch, then got to her feet. "He's gone AWOL."

Edison had just come home after spending the night and most of the morning with Natasha Gains, when he received the call.

"They're going after Reston."

"Before the election?"

"Yes."

Olivia was about to head for the stairs, when Fitz came into the living room.

"I was just about to send a search party," Olivia smiled, then stared when he gave a hard kiss before taking her hand on his way to greet Carlita. After the hugs and kisses, Fitz smiled at Carlita holding the baby in her arms, while he had his arm firmly around Olivia.

"I see you've fallen under Gracie's spell," he smiled.

Carlita beamed. "Gracie is adorable, and very hard to get hold of, which is why I'm glad to have her all to myself for a while."

"Yeah, that's how I feel." Fitz murmured glancing towards Olivia.

"Gracie?" Olivia nudged him.

"She's Grace personified. Just like her mother."

Olivia gave him a half wry, half amused smile as he dropped a kiss on her lips. When she surfaced, she saw Carlita looking at them with a question in her eyes. A question Olivia needed to find the answer herself.

"Will you be okay with Gracie, while I speak to Fitz for a few minutes?" Olivia asked.

"Of course, cara, but be warned that you may have to fight me to get Gracie back."

* * *

><p>"What did Zeke say?" Olivia asked as soon as Fitz shut the door to the master bedroom. Instead of responding he kissed her. When she opened her mouth to speak a second time, he kissed her again.<p>

"Fitz!" Olivia laughed breaking away. "What did Zeke say?"

"He's going to announce a Federal Investigation in Sam Reston's conduct during my impeachment trail."

Olivia stared at him, her hands on his chest. "But we always knew he was going to do that? Why did he want to speak to you this morning?"

"He missed me."

Olivia gurgled a laugh, as he drew her close and kissed her cheek, then her ear, whispering "I think we should plan a second honeymoon."

"We didn't have a first."

"Okay, we'll plan for that one."

"Fitz! Tell me what your meeting with Zeke was about."

Fitz sighed, his breath feathering her cheek. "Livvie, you really don't want to know."

She drew back to look at him, the teasing laughter leaving her face. "You mean you don't want me to know. There is a difference."

When he didn't respond, she pushed out of his arms and headed for the door. Before she could open it, his arm shot over her shoulder to keep it shut. Then he twirled her around to face him.

"Sam Reston wanted us dead, both of us. That was his first option before Doyle talked him into an impeachment."

"Dead?" Olivia stared at him. "You mean, while I was pregnant?"

His eyes widened as if the thought had never crossed his mind, then he slowly drew her close and wrapped her in his arms tightly.

* * *

><p><strong>Tom &amp; Huck<strong>

"This is something you should hear," Tom handed over the ear phones to Huck who was coding some bugs out of 'Jerry's Game' in the Vermont 'Situation Room'. "I diverted the baby monitor in the Master Bedroom to our monitoring system, so the whole house wouldn't hear their private conversations. But this is serious."

Huck took the earphones. After long tense minutes, he gave them back without a word. Then he stood abruptly and walked out of the room.

**Huck, Quinn & Abby**

"He wanted to take Olivia out?" Quinn's eyes bulged.

"Who wanted Olivia out?" Abby frowned, arriving a few minutes late, after checking on a chicken roasting in the oven.

"The wanna-be President."

"Which wanna-be: the murderer or the lunatic?"

"The murderer. He's got a taste for murdering." Huck said. "And he needs to be stopped."

"If Huck fixes my gun, I could shoot him."

Quinn turned to Huck. "I think she means we could stop him from being President."

"No, Lindsay, I mean I could should him."

**Karen and Jerry**

"Do you think it's true?" Karen asked Jerry.

For once he didn't have a witty comeback. Instead he grabbed Karen's hand. "Come on, this needs an adult."

**Karen, Jerry and Rowan**

"Repeat what you heard, Karen. Word for word." Rowan said sharply closing the door to the Man Den.

Karen repeated what she heard. "Carlita wanted to speak to Huck about the tracker around Bubby's ankle, and I saw him heading towards the kitchen and I, uh, followed him."

"Where were you standing?"

"Just outside the door. By the wall."

"So you couldn't have misunderstood the conversation?"

Karen shook her head.

"Did they say anything else?"

Karen shook her head.

Jerry looked at Rowan, "What are we going to do? We can't let some asshole who wanted Mom and Dad dead, become President of the United States."

Rowan looked at him, then sighed. "The alternative is the woman who locked your father up for mental treatment because he wanted a divorce."

* * *

><p>Olivia came straight for Gracie, the moment she and Fitz came downstairs. Only after kissing the baby's face several times, did she look around and ask, "Where is everyone?"<p>

Carlita's look of concern disappeared behind a confused frown as she glanced down at Daisy snoozing on the couch, and then around the room. "They were here. I don't know where they've all gone." Her gaze returned to Olivia, then Fitz "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Olivia smiled down at Gracie. "I just needed to hold her for a moment. Has she been good?"

"The little angel listened to my baby talk like she understood every word. My kids have not given me that kind of attention for years."

Laughing Olivia turned to glance over her shoulder at Fitz. The lines on his face smoothed away at the sight of Olivia's smile and he gathered her into the protective circle of his arms as they both sank onto the couch. "So I understand you're going to help me remember what it's like to be an average Joe, Carlita."

"You could never be an average anything, Fitz," Carlita smiled. "And my listeners would be angry with me if I told you to stay away from politics."

"Tell him, Carlita," Olivia encouraged. "Tell him what they've been saying to you on the radio."

"They are not happy you left the White House. They want you to return."

"No can do. I quit that life, and I much prefer what we've got in Vermont" Fitz kissed Olivia's temple, then paused when Gracie made a little pfft noise, which made them all laugh.

Olivia gave Gracie another kiss. "Look at her all proud of her little baby fart. I think it's time for a nappy change."

"Let me do it." Fitz reached for Gracie but Olivia shook her head, getting to her feet.

"I've got this."

After Olivia left with Gracie, Carlita turned to Fitz. "Olivia is very protective of little Gracie. And you are very protective of Olivia. Have they been threatened?"

Fitz gave Carlita a considering look, then murmured, "In a way. Olivia's just learnt that Gracie would have been collateral damage had I remained in office." Seeing Carlita frown at the cryptic explanation, he hastened to add, "It's okay, she's safe now. We're all safe."

"But for how long?" Carlita sat forward. "When Lucas Zeke leaves office, the choice we have is between the Langston woman who wants to be Mrs Dictator just like my ex-husband, and the other man, who killed his wife's lover and then got her to serve time for his crime."

"Reston will not be President."

"You cannot know this. The polls aren't always correct."

"No, but there's more to it than that."

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News<strong>

_In a shock announcement, Democrat front-runner Samuel Reston has announced his departure from the Presidential race citing personal reasons…_

**Breaking News**

_US Attorney General dropped a bombshell this morning, saying he'd opened a federal investigation into Mr Samuel Reston. The Democrat, who quit the race to be America's next President, is understood to have threatened the life of a government official. We have no word about the alleged victim of his threat…_

**Breaking News**

_What lengths would a Presidential candidate go to win a US election? It seems some will go as far as murder. Rumours have surfaced that Mr Reston planned to kill a President in order to win the executive seat at the White House. Sources at the Justice Department say Mr Reston's Plan A was to murder former President Mr Fitzgerald Grant and his wife, Mrs Olivia Pope-Grant before he opted for Plan B, rigging Mr Grant's impeachment trial. Mrs Grant was pregnant at the time threats were made against her life. The Democratic caucus was quick to call the rumours a lie but stated that if Mr Reston had not quit the race, he would be disqualified to be the Democratic candidate for the Presidency. Mr Reston was not available for comment… _

* * *

><p>Edison Davis parked his car out front and rang the doorbell. No one answered. Taking out his cell phone, he glanced at the SMS, confirming that he wasn't late. He didn't want to leave until he found out just how many necks Reston planned to put in a noose to save his own ass. With that in mind,<p>

Edison walked round back and tried the backdoor. It opened. He entered the kitchen to find it empty but there was a light shining further down the corridor from the room that Edison knew to be Reston's study.

Edison hurried towards the light. "Sam, what the hell's going on—!" He stopped in the doorway at the sight of Reston lying face down on the desk, blood pooling on the surface, a gun beside his hand. His voice was playing over the speakers of his desktop computer.

Edison backed up, crashing against the opposite wall, before he turned to hurry out. He was halfway down the corridor before the thought struck that Reston was dead, and he, Edison, was in his house. Edison stopped walking and looked back towards Reston's study, then towards the back door. Unsure which way to turn, he took out his cell phone and dialled a number.

"Olivia?"

There was complete silence at the other end.

"Olivia, this is Edison. I-I've walked into a dead man's house."

* * *

><p>Having answered the phone on the first ring, to avoid disturbing Gracie asleep in her cot, Olivia wanted to hang up when she realised the speaker's identity. But after a swift mental debate, she put on her Olivia Pope hat as she slipped out of bed, and out onto the balcony.<p>

"What are you talking about? Where are you?"

"At Reston's house. He's dead."

"_Dead_?!"

"It looks like he's shot himself."

Olivia frowned. "Is there a suicide note."

"I don't know. I'm standing in the corridor. Reston's in his study."

"Go back. See if there's a note."

After a long pause, Edison said, "There's paper and stuff on the carpet, but no note. Just a lot of blood and the man's brains."

"Did you touch the gun?"

"Hell no."

"Good."

"I just touched the door. You want me to wipe it down?"

"No. Where did you park the car?"

"Out front. I was told to park down the street, but even in this neighbourhood, I don't feel safe walking on the street this late at night, by myself."

"You were told? Who told you and when?"

"I got a text from Reston's cell phone."

"Edison, you need to call the police."

"What?"

"You've been set up. Someone will have pictures of you going in and out of that house. You can give yourself nightmares trying to figure out when and how they'll use it against you, but your best bet is to call the cops. And then call your lawyer. Don't answer any questions from the cops until your lawyer is present."

Edison released a deep sigh. "I get it. Okay. I'll make that call."

"Use your phone. Don't touch anything else in that house."

"Okay… and Liv..?"

"Yes."

"I owe you."

Olivia rang off without a response.

* * *

><p>She was staring into the distance, her hands on the balcony railing when she felt his arms slip around her waist from behind.<p>

"Enjoying the night air by yourself?" Fitz kissed her cheek.

"Sam Reston is dead."

"What?" Fitz turned her round to face him.

"Sam Reston is dead. Edison found him."

"Whoa, wait. Back up. Start at the beginning."

Olivia gave him a summary of the night's events. After a long silence, his first response was, "Edison has your private number?"

"Fitz, I gave it to him when he was trying to prevent you from getting impeached. That first time when you were locked up in Roswell, New Mexico."

"How do you know that Edison didn't kill Reston?"

"Edison's the type to take a hit on someone, he wouldn't do the job himself. That's why he needed Hollis Doyle and his friend to destroy you. He doesn't like being the bad guy." She stood on tiptoe, leaning against Fitz to kiss his face. "Fitz, stop looking at me like that. I help people, it's my job."

"Olivia, technically you don't have a job. You're on maternity leave."

"Technically, we don't have maternity leave in this country."

* * *

><p><strong>Gentlemen's Club<strong>

Two men sat in two antique armchairs, smoking Cuban cigars while sharing a bottle of Russian Stolichnaya vodka.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"I didn't think the damn fool to cash in his chips this quickly. But it's mighty convenient timing, spared us a lot of embarrassment."

The other man coughed. "So when do we announce Reston's replacement?"

"We have to go through the motions of getting a consensus from the DNC."

"You don't feel the guy's tainted by his association with Reston."

"By the time, the public get wind of it, our man will be in the White House."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Edison is black; he'll win the minority vote by default."

"Langston's a woman, but she's not popular with her own gender."

"Thank heavens for small mercies." The men drained their glasses, waited until their glasses were refilled before resuming the conversation. "But we want Langston to win."

"That's the agreement, after Grant went rogue on the Republicans. We need the scourge of independence wiped from people's memory. We don't want radical ideas invigorating our lame duck politics."

"And if Langston wins, she gets to be the 'bad guy', and we get to ride the next election looking like the progressive saviours of this country."

"It took her 21 days to get the country to the brink of martial law. I'm hoping she can top that this time around."

"Maybe she has learnt her lesson."

"The Republicans are a bunch of red-neck loons who never learn. Which is why they're a convenient scapegoat for all that's wrong with this country. With Langston running the country, I'm hoping for a Democratic run that will last into the next century."

* * *

><p><strong>Breaking News<strong>

_The chief of police in the District of Columbia has announced that Samuel Reston's body was found in his home office. There is no evidence of foul play but the matter is under investigation…_

**Breaking News**

_The Democratic National Committee has officially announced ex-Senator Edison Davis as their replacement candidate for the Presidential race after Mr Reston's death. Mr Davis, a close friend of Reston's, has been campaigning for the Democrats since leaving the White House cabinet earlier this year.._

**Breaking News**

_The Chief of Police confirmed reports that Mr Davis is assisting police with their investigations. Mr Davis was first on the scene following Mr Reston's death. The police chief said the death has been confirmed a suicide by the Medical Examiner…_

* * *

><p>Edison Davis stood at the podium, facing the bright glare of a thousand cameras flashing. His skin had a slight sheen, but he was responding to the rapid-fire questions in a cool, calm manner.<p>

"I'm not a personal friend of Samuel Reston but we did work closely on his campaign. I believed he was a man of principle who had a lot of progressive ideas for this country."

"We hadn't spoken since his involvement in Fitzgerald Grant's impeachment trial was revealed."

"No, I wasn't avoiding Sam. He was avoiding a lot of people, and I felt I was one of them, which is why I was surprised to receive a text from his cell phone asking me to see him that night."

"I'd like to see a Democrat in the White House, but I don't believe we should win at any cost."

* * *

><p>Olivia 'pffftd' and switched off the television in the family room where she tidying up; only seeing Fitz leaning against the doorjamb, staring at her.<p>

"Edison could be President… do you wish now that you'd stayed with him."

Olivia stared at him, her hands on hips. Then she shook her head at him and brushed past him on her way out.

"Olivia." He caught her arm, but she shook him off.

"We're not having this conversation right now."

* * *

><p>Natasha Gains popped the cork and laughing with delight at the gush of champagne from the bottle which Edison hastily tipped into two glasses.<p>

"Next stop White House, baby," Natasha grinned, toasting him before taking a huge gulp. "We should go out celebrate." She put her glass down on the bench top and wound her arms around Edison's neck.

Edison looked at her with faint smile. "Not yet. Your divorce hasn't been finalised."

"That's just a formality."

"In the eyes of the voting public that's a big formality."

Natasha stepped back. "The voting public? You mean the Bible Belt with their communes and incest? They vote Republican."

Edison took her in his arms. "You think the Democrats in the South are any different? The KKK has always had a lot of support from Democrats in the South; they don't need an excuse to lynch a black man, either by rope or by vote."

"We've come a long way since the 19th century, Edison."

"Do you really want me to lose an election to prove a point?"

* * *

><p>It took Fitz awhile to find Olivia in Teddy's playroom, tidying up.<p>

He watched her ignoring him for a few minutes, then broke the silence with, "I was jealous."

He waited in silence for a response, as Olivia tossed a stuffed penguin into the toy box.

He tried again. "We haven't had sex."

She picked up a slinky toy caterpillar and turned to glare at him. "Don't blame this on your hormones."

Fitz issued a gusty sigh. "Okay my bad."

"Is that an apology?"

"Yep."

She stared at him unimpressed. "I want a real apology."

He walked up to her, taking the caterpillar from her hands and tossing it on the bed where it promptly fell to the floor. "Olivia, I'm sorry." He tugged her into his arms, "I get a bit paranoid sometimes that's he's going to steal my girl back."

"I'm not a prize. I chose you, Fitz. _I_ chose _you_. No one is going to steal me."

"Unless you let him."

"Yes."

"Will you let him?"

"No."

"Maybe if you didn't look so ferocious when you say that, I'd believe you."

She tilted her head back and gave him the eye.

"You're still mad?"

"What do you think?"

"Can I get a kiss?"

"No."

"Yep, still mad. Want me to apologise again?"

"Okay."

"Olivia, I'm—!" She put her fingers over his mouth. "Not with words. With actions. You can volunteer to clean the toilets."

Fitz nuzzled her palm. "But I've hired someone to do all that. They'll be here tomorrow."

Olivia dropped her hand, frowning. "I'm not letting the cleaning crew see the house the way it looks right now."

"Livvie, they're cleaners. It's their job to clean."

"I'm not having cleaners in here, judging me on my house-keeping skills."

Fitz stared at her, then bent to kiss her nose. "You're not making any sense, but I still love you."

"So you'll do it?"

"Do I need a hazmat suit?"

* * *

><p><strong>On a Campaign Bus <strong>

"Why Edison Davis?"

Sally Langston carefully put aside the speech they'd just finalised, and gave her attention to the campaign manager.

"The Democrats need the minority vote to win. Not that they want to win this one. Fitzgerald Grant proved himself to be more progressive than the progressives. They want the voting public to forget all that. They are expecting me to wipe the slate clean of leftist ideals and swing straight back where we're all comfortable on the right."

"You know this?"

"Oh, I know that the men who run this country, think I'm a little joke and they are waiting to laugh at my expense. But I've learned a thing or two since my last brief taste of running the country for 21 days."

* * *

><p>Fitz had just finished his tour of duty on <em>Mission Gross<em> when Tom appeared to tell him that Zeke wanted to speak to him on the secure line.

"There's something I didn't tell you before; it's about Uncle Tom."

Fitz paused glancing over at Tom, who stared back impassively. Then Fitz turned away with a faint smile when Zeke added, "I'm talking about Edison Davis. I know the guy drives you crazy worse than Cyrus, so I didn't say anything. But now that he's a step away from being Commander-in-Chief, you need to know this: the guy is a bad seed, he was in on Reston's Master Plan."

"You mean…?"

"Yeah. He agreed with the permanent solution."

"Even Olivia?"

"Yeah."

Fitz sat down heavily. "Olivia helped him last night. She went into Fixer mode when he called her from Reston's home. I bet he killed the guy."

"He didn't. Oscar's crew has been following Reston since Hollis Doyle surfaced. And we've been following Edison since he left the White House. Reston wasn't murdered. He shot himself after writing his last confession. The guys watching him said Reston wrote the letter, tossed a few things around the room, then sent that text to Edison before he sat down at his desk and shot himself."

"He was setting Edison up."

"Sure was. And we were going to help. We had pictures of Edison going in and out of the house, and his fingerprints were all over that damned house. But then he called Olivia."

"Where's the letter."

"I have it here. I told the guys to take the letter because I didn't want Edison destroying it. Reston sure was mad at Uncle Tom for keeping his distance after we went public with the investigation. He suspected that Edison was next in line to fill his shoes and he wanted to make sure that didn't happen. I got to hand it to Reston. He tried, but Olivia was too good for him..."

* * *

><p><strong>Tom &amp; Huck<strong>

Huck put down the earphones and looked at Tom.

"You got a plan?" Tom asked.

"Not yet." Huck got to his feet and exited the room.

**Huck, Quinn & Abby**

"The snake!" Quinn hissed. "I should have punched him in the face that day he went at Liv at OPA."

"I should have shot him. My gun was working then." Abby muttered.

"We can't shoot Edison. Olivia doesn't like it when we kill people," Huck said.

"If we can't shoot Edison how are we going to stop him being our next President?" Abby threw up her hands.

"We need a plan." Quinn said firmly.

**Karen, Jerry and Rowan**

Karen was chasing Darth who had sneaked off with a sock from the laundry basket when she saw Huck, Quinn and Abby go into the Man Den.

"What are you doing?" Jerry hissed when he found Karen listening at the door.

"Sssh! Listen!"

Jerry pressed his ear to the door.

Seeing Karen and Jerry crouched at the door of the den, Rowan paused, then strode over and tapped their shoulders.

Karen bit back a little scream, while Jerry yelped, then glared at Rowan, who waved them to follow him.

"Are you mad at us for listening at doors?" Karen said the moment he'd taken them up to Gracie's nursery, the only room that was empty in the whole house, and closed the door.

"Why would I do that when surveillance is a national past-time," Rowan gave his Grinch smile. Then added, "What did you hear?"

**Karen, Jerry, Rowan and Olivia**

"So the guy who wanted Mom and Dad dead, is dead."

"But the guy who has taken his place, also wanted them dead."

Rowan rocked back on his heels.

"What are we going to do?"

"We need to tell Mom."

"We can't tell Olivia. This would devastate her. They were engaged."

"Did she love this Edison dude?"

"No, she didn't or Mom wouldn't have married Dad."

"Then we'll have to tell Dad."

"Fitzgerald hates Edison's guts."

"Okay, we don't want Dad going to prison."

"So we tell Mom."

"Tell me what?" They shot round to see Olivia standing in the doorway. "I heard voices," she added, as they all stared at her wide-eyed, then exchanged a look between them.

"What's going on?" She closed the door, and waited for them to speak.

**Olivia and Fitz**

Olivia crashed into Fitz on her way out of the nursery.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" Fitz caught her in his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me, Edison wanted us dead?"

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you to MarylinJ for this chapter idea … ;)


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